


An Unexpected Set

by anopendoor



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age gap but Rey is older ;), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Wimbledon (2004 Movie) Fusion, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Has A FILTHY Mouth, Ben is Rey's #1 cheerleader, Casual Sex, Consensual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I have fallen down the smut drain, Idiots in Love, Luke is ever the cockblocker, Rey has a potty mouth, Tennis Pro AU, and I can't get up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anopendoor/pseuds/anopendoor
Summary: England hasn’t had a Wimbledon champion since 1936. Rey Kenobi is determined to just make it to the third round before she hangs up her racket and becomes a retired tennis coach for good. Could a distraction in the name of American all-star Ben Solo get in the way of her path to greatness...or be the best thing for it?Or: Gender bent Wimbledon (2004) inspired AU – Rey is Peter, Peter Colt / Ben is Lizzie :p / Rose is Nikolaj lol / Poe is James McAvoy / Phasma is the hotshot opponent / Finn is Rey’s manager (yasss) / Luke is the big bad Mr. Bradbury / You don’t have to have seen the movie—but if you have I think the parallels are just extra* juicy :) /
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 27
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The parallels are just too good. For the sake of the role reversal and drama, there hasn’t been a British Wimbledon Champ since 1936—man or woman. With the gender swap is also an age swap – so Rey is older than Ben – hehe. Inspired by Wimbledon (2004) -- but also: the Victoria Azarenka comeback in the US Open final this year... Tennis is a wiild world.
> 
> Beta is me – apologies. The tennis jargon is based off of my knowledge as an avid tennis _spectator_ , so apologies for any errors on that front.
> 
> I hope you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it! Finishing up end chapters, but this is outlined. Please enjoy the tennis, the romance, the angst, the dramaaa – all of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update** made a moodboard 🥰hope it does the story justice!

_It’s triple break point in the fifth game of the second set. Rey Kenobi looks on in concentration. Will she break Gwen Phasma’s killer serve and give herself a chance to fight for another chance, or will this Wimbledon final end after two quick faulty sets at Rey’s hand? The pressure is on as we watch these two famous rivals fight for the title. This is history in the making, there will finally be a British Wimbledon champion since 1936—but the question is: who will it be?_

_It doesn’t seem like Kenobi has much fight left in her, her serve being easily broken each game. It looks like Phasma is about to draw the winning blow. What a pitiful defeat for England’s grand mare…_

A drop of sweat rolls down Rey’s brow, her eyes set in concentration. She evens her breath with each lunge as she sways from left to right.

_Breathe Kenobi, just breathe._

She meets Gwen Phasma’s eye from across the court. Gwen bounces the ball five times before she holds it against her racket.

_I am one with the court, one with the court…oh bollocks, now is not the time for a fucking wedge in the arse. Can she tell? Maybe if I just brush my arm back—nah, fuck, is this how people get disqualified? Why can’t I ever remember all the bloody rules…_

Gwen tosses the ball in the air. Her long arm pulls back to strike.

_Shut up Rey, fuck, you will be the Wimbledon champion. I AM the Wimbledon champion._

Gwen’s serve arcs straight to her. Rey shuffles her footwork ready to defend it and—

“REY, bloody hell, wake up! You’re not in retirement yet!”

Rey shoots up in her bed in alarm, her eyes squinting as they adjust to the light in the room. Finn has just thrown open the curtains and the sun streams into the room. Dust particles disperse with a vengeance.

“What gives, Peanut, it’s already 10 a.m. and you’ve got training.”

Rey falls back down against her pillows and groans. “Oh, bollocks.”

Finn looks disapproving. “That is not the champion spirit.” He frowns.

“You know I’m ranked, like 98, I’m pretty low on that totem pole. I don’t think champion is a practical goal to strive for.”

Finn makes a face. “You’re ranked 88, sweetheart. At least you’re in the top 100! Besides remember you were once number _7_ in the world, remember you almost won Wimbledon that year! People still remember you. People still love you.” Finn points to himself. “I mean me obviously, but—other people too.”

Rey runs a hand through her hair. “Thanks for the support, but that was like over a bloody decade ago. A lot has changed since then.”

“Well, you still don’t have any titles or championships under your belt, so, not much has changed.”

Rey narrows her eyes. “Careful.”

“Look, all I’m saying, it’s your last tournament before retirement, you might as well at least make the best of it. Have a little fun!”

“I promise to try with a smile if you get out.” Rey waves her hand and Finn just stands there. “Bugger off, will you? I’m still in my bloody pajamas.”

“What, do you have little bunnies on them holding tennis rackets or something?” Finn dodges the pillow she launches at him.

-

Once Rey is able to convince her manager and best friend that she will try and _win Wimbledon_ he finally leaves her in peace so she can change out of her sleep clothes.

When she trots down the stairs of her family home, she sees Obi-Wan, Ashoka, Poe and Finn all whispering over the island in the kitchen.

“Oh, sh shhh, here she comes!” One of them whispers.

Rey sighs heavily.

“There she is, our shining tennis star!” Obi-Wan cheers, his arms spread wide open beckoning her to embrace him.

“Alright, what are you all on about?” Rey grumbles.

Obi-Wan lowers his arms before looking over at the rest of the group. “We—Well, we’re just excited, this is your last Wimbledon after all.”

“So you say.” Poe mutters and Ashoka leans over and pinches his arm. “Hey!”

Rey nods assuredly. “It is, I’m retiring alright? Spent enough bloody years trying to make it to a final—hell, to make it past third round. I can accept it’s time to pack it up, become a washed-up tennis coach for perverted old wankers at the club to ogle on their Saturday morning…”

“There are some reputable members there. _We_ go there!” Obi-Wan tries to justify.

Poe taps his fingers on the counter and nods in affirmation. “Well that solidifies my bet on Gwen Phasma.”

Ashoka flicks his ear. “Enough, Poe.”

“Sometimes I wonder why dad adopted you.” Rey says as she peers at her adopted sibling with narrowed eyes.

“Hey, he adopted you first!” Poe rebuts and shrugs peeved. “He clearly felt like something was missing in his life…hence why he adopted me.” Poe points to himself.

“Children.” Obi-Wan chides. “Poe, I thought we talked about the gambling…”

Poe gestures towards Rey. “This is a sure bet! I would be an idiot to just—ouch!” His hand rubs the back of his head.

Ashoka crosses her arms. “I think Rey has a fine chance of doing well. These matches can be unpredictable.”

Finn nods. “Yes, Rey you have that underdog story going for you!”

“Underdog story?” Rey asks bemused. “I’m basically ancient to the WTA and the AELT. I’m sure I’m not even on their radar.” She says offhand as she reaches for an apple in the fruit bowl.

“…So, you thinking what, only first round…second?” Poe asks and this time he has the wherewithal to run when Ashoka raises her hand.

-

When Rey pulls up to the Coruscant Country Club the valet greets her. “Welcome, Miss Kenobi.”

She grabs her tennis bag as the kid gets into her XK8 Jaguar. “Be easy on him, BB-8’s groaning a bit with all the gravel.”

“Will do, ma’am.” The valet agrees. “And good luck next week.”

Rey stops, and looks back at the kid over her shades. “Thank you.” She says as he nods and drives away. It’s rare, but occasionally she is recognized in a less pathetic regard. She wonders how that kid even knows who she is.

When she enters the club, she’s instantly greeted by Sheev Palpatine.

_Juuust brilliant._

“Miss Kenobi, so good to see you before you’re off to London next week. We are all very excited to watch you play at Wimbledon.” He says these words with such saccharine sweetness, Rey almost misses the indifference in his tone.

_Yes, I’m sure you are you two-face dodgy arse-licking wanker…_

“We are especially pleased that you have decided to join our staff this coming autumn. I know quite a few of our members would be delighted to volley a few with _Rey Kenobi_.”

Rey bites her tongue to keep the expletives _inside_.

“I almost can’t contain my excitement, sir.” Rey says with as genuine a smile as she can manage.

As she passes him and walks further through the lobby, she’s then intercepted by the _wives_ of the club. Dame Satine Kryze, one of the most influential patrons of the establishment calls out to her.

“Oh, Miss Kenobi!” She summons. As a future employee at this bougie establishment, Rey grits her teeth as she plasters on a smile for the elder woman. “We are certainly rooting for you this year.” She says as Rey approaches.

Rey notices one of the women behind her stifle a laugh in her hand _not_ very discreetly.

“What is your ranking this year dear?” One of Satine’s money-grubbing ‘friends’ asks.

Rey nods quite stoically. “I’m ranked 88 this year.”

The plump woman nods rather obnoxiously. “Oh, I see. What were you ranked that time… wasn’t it number six…?”

“Seven.” Rey corrects.

“Ah, yes, Seven! What an auspicious ranking. You did quite well that year. Weren’t you in the semifinals that Wimbledon?”

Rey grinds her teeth. Yes, she’d made it to the semifinal, and yes, she had won the first set. Then, as many love to recall, her game drastically changed and she lost quite pitifully in the end.

“Yes, we look forward to seeing how far you choke—go.” Another woman snickers.

“Isn’t Gwen Phasma competing this year?”

“Oh, yes! That new up and comer, she sure is something. She’s ranked number 1. Number 1! A brit ranked at number 1, now that _is_ something…”

Rey nods as politely as she can manage to the women. “Have a pleasant day, ladies.” She says with a mock curtsy and she does not try to conceal her ill-mannered exit.

She hurries through the room, hoping to avoid any other encounters.

Her future is looking just splendid indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

Rey pulls up to the Starkiller Hotel and greets the valet with a prim nod.

She walks up to the concierge and the woman behind the desk is typing away at something on her computer screen. She doesn’t pay Rey any attention.

“Uh hello, Rey Kenobi checking in.”

She’s met with silence.

Rey stares at the woman for a moment, about to excuse herself, cough or maybe scream rather loudly—she isn’t sure which yet.

“Rey!” She turns when she hears her name and a smile breaks out on her face.

Rose Tico bounds towards her. She pulls the shorter girl into a hug. “What room are you in?” Rose asks excitedly.

Rey shoots a look over to the woman behind the desk still typing. “I’m not sure yet.”

The woman concierge slides a card against the swiper and slips it into a folded card and slides it on the desk.

Rey just raises her eyebrows at the woman. “Alright then, thanks for all your help.”

She opens the card. “I’m in room…1412?”

Rose’s eyes widen. “That sounds like an upgrade? I’m totally coming over to your room to hang out.”

When she’s on the fourteenth floor she slides her keycard surreptitiously in the slot. The green light dings and her eyebrows raise again. “Holy shit, Finn. How did you swing this?”

She opens the door to an en suite with two plush sofas and a dining room table. The bathroom and kitchen abut from the en suite, while there are two large double doors that open to the room equip with a king size bed.

Rey smiles. Maybe she could enjoy this final tournament with a bit more flair.

Feeling rather soiled from the drive, Rey decides to try out the huge walk in rain shower. She can’t help but groan as she walks under the pressured spray. It felt incredible. Rey notes that she’s going to have to figure out where to get one of these for her flat. She’s started to build up quite a steam, and she’s curses that she didn’t close the bathroom door allowing the steam to escape some.

She’s so blissed out in the shower that she doesn’t hear the hotel room door click open.

“No, _mom_ , I’m not going to drink during the tournament. But you do know I’m legally allowed to drink in America… _right_ you should be telling Luke that—actually—I think he left me a present…”

Rey is startled to hear the deep voice echo within the bathroom walls. She whips her head abruptly to the open door and yelps. Her hands instantly fly to cover herself. She realizes with relief that the middle portion of the glass is frosted.

“Shit!” Rey exclaims as she searches wildly for her towel. She reaches for where it hangs across the wall from the shower head. When she’s secured beneath the cotton, she whips her head angrily at the man standing in the door.

He’s staring at her with a smug look on his face and Rey’s face reddens.

“Um, excuse me, what are you doing in my room?” She accuses.

His eyebrows shoot up then in surprise. “Your room?” He looks around in a way that makes Rey think he’s mocking her. “Did Luke not send you? Or, don’t tell me, this is some joke from Hux, that fucking moron. Did he pay you at least?”

“What the bloody hell are you on about?” Rey sputters. She pulls the towel tighter around herself. She feels scrutinized under his gaze.

He’s quite tall, possibly 6’3 and he looks young. With his dark hair billowing against the tops of his shoulders and dark eyes that are still piercing through her.

“What room do you think this is?” He asks then, and he looks pondering.

Rey narrows her eyes. “Room 1412. What room do _you_ think this is?”

“Room 1412.” He replies breezily. “ _My_ 1412.”

Rey is interrupted when another person enters the room.

“Ben, where’s my phone, we have a meeting with that rep for Adidas in an hour—” The older man stops as he takes in the scene of ‘Ben’ and Rey wrapped in a towel and he scoffs. “Are you _serious_? What, did you find yourself a deluded fan to sleep with while you were still on the damn plane?” He yells disapprovingly at them and Rey feels her cheeks heat.

_What the bloody arse head in hole…_

Rey opens her mouth to retort.

“I thought you invited her here.” The guy ‘Ben’ says the words in such a way, it’s clear he’s taunting the older fellow.

Rey would just like to get fucking dressed.

“There was obviously some mistake with the concierge.” Rey explains as she looks between the two men, who seem to have forgotten her presence by the way they’re glaring at each other. “I’ll just…change…and go downstairs to sort it out.”

She rushes past them and into the adjourning bedroom, she feels Ben’s eyes burn through her back up until she swirls around and closes the doors rather loudly behind her.

After a brief argument with the woman downstairs, who could give zero shits about Rey’s predicament, it turns out her room number is actually 412, not 1412.

Rey only rushes out that she was actually in the wrong room as she grabs her bags and escapes from room 1412 as quickly as humanly possible.

She bites her cheek as she hears Ben call out after her to, “come again soon!”

_Bloody Americans._

-

“So, you were in the shower, naked.” Rose confirms as they volley back and forth.

Rey grunts as she hits the ball with a little more force. “Yes, Rose that’s what one does when they shower.” She slaps Rose’s return out of bounds. “Oh bugger, sorry.”

“And he just checked you out the whole time?” Rose asks smugly.

“I said he stared the whole time, and rather rudely at that. I mean he’s American, they certainly lack some manners if _that_ experience was anything to go by.”

Rose shrugs as she lines up her serve. “I think Ben Solo has been on the circuit for maybe a year or so? He’s like super young, maybe twenty-two? He’s definitely all anyone was talking about in the press after he won Australia and French this year. And then there’s the fact that he has a glowing fanbase of women who would drop their panties if he so much as looked their way. He’s a hottie.”

Rey frowns as she prepares for Rose’s serve. She wasn’t too keen to dwell on that fact, given her encounter with him. He did see her naked after all, and he was an absolute prick about it.

They practice for about ten more minutes until the devil himself appears a few courts down from them. Armitage Hux struts beside him.

Rey glances over and quickly turns back to their session. “Lovely.” She grumbles.

Rose starts to line up tennis ball containers on her side of the court so they can practice spot serves.

“You know he’s projected to win Wimbledon. They’re saying he could win a grand slam this year.” She walks over to Rey’s side and indiscreetly looks over at the boys.

Rey readies to serve and slams the ball hard. “Well that’s great for him.” She misses the target. “Tits.” She swears.

“Hey Tico.” Hux calls across the practice court between them. They both look over at the interruption. “Practicing ball collection, huh?” He snickers.

Rose lifts her chin. “Uh, yep. I’ve actually gotten a lot of compliments on my skills from some other players. We’re actually meeting up later to…practice.” She retorts and the smirk falls off Hux’s face. “Heheh, that will teach the bastard.” Rose mutters to Rey. “He’s no match for me.”

Rey look over at her friend. “Don’t you two sleep together every major?”

Rose shrugs as she walks over to the service line. “Well, maybe now he’ll have something to think about whenever he completely fails to look cool in front of his friends.” She quips. She serves and it knocks one of the containers up into the air with the force of impact.

“But you aren’t sleeping with other players.” Rey notes.

“Yeah, well he doesn’t know that. He deserves to sweat over it.”

Rey looks over at the boys again only to feel slightly perturbed when she notices Ben watching them. The hairs on her arms stand on end. She tries to brush it off as she goes to serve. She still feels his eyes on her and she’s a little unnerved when she sets up her serve.

The ball bounces between the cans and the vibration causes one to slowly fall over. It’s quite pathetic and Rey grumbles, taking extra care not to look over at him and ultimately see some sort of mocking expression on his face.

Rey feels her face heat as she mutters to herself. “You better hit a bloody can you half-twit.” She bounces the ball once, then twice before she lines up. Her eyes narrow in on the can as she rears back. A little grunt escapes her as she swings and thank the tennis gods because she aces it. The small smile of achievement is instantly wiped off her face when a ball flies over from the far side and slaps the can next to it away. A perfect bloody hit.

The girls look over to where Hux is visibly sniggering. From here, Rey can see the pleased look on Ben’s face as he twirls his racket between his abnormally large hands. The smirk on his lips barely concealed.

“What gits.” Rose mentions next to her in a mock British accent.

Rey glances over to her and smiles. “Ah, I am rubbing off on you, aren’t I?”

Rose looks back cheekily. “Just a bit.” She says in the same accent.

-

They have the unfortunate luck of trying to leave the courts at the same time as Gwen Phasma arrives. A barrage of paparazzi swarms her elegant form as she poses for pictures.

“Gwen!”

“Gwen, over here!”

“How does it feel to be the number one rank, the most successful Brit to be at Wimbledon since 1936?”

Rey grumbles as she watches Gwen flash the camera smile after smile.

Sure, Gwen may be the most successful, but Rey liked to think she was the most seasoned.

_With extra cayenne_.

Rey gets shoved in the side by a photographer who tries to get a shot of Gwen.

“Oi!” Rey snaps as she and Rose try to push through to the door.

Rose goes off to speak with her coach while Rey waits for her car to arrive.

“You’re swinging too early on your serve.” She hears that familiar deep and low toned voice waft behind her.

Rey turns around and meets the haughty expression of Ben Solo. She turns her gaze back towards the road.

“Thanks for the advice.” She says, however she doesn’t feel very thankful inside.

“You turn your shoulders before you’ve swung and that slight misalignment slows your ball down.” He continues, clearly ignoring Rey’s dismissive body language.

Rey just hums, praying for Rose to scurry on back and end this belittling and unwelcome conversation.

“You need a teacher.” He says simply.

That makes her look at him. She can’t help the small that cracks on her face in disbelief. “What, and you think you’re it?” She asks cynically. The guy really had some balls…

Ben shrugs. “If you want to make it past the first round, you might benefit from taking points from the best.”

Rey really does laugh then. Her face scrunches up as she peers at him. “Is this…is this how you pick up women in America or something?”

He tilts his head up slightly, the soft waves in his hair shift with the movement. Rey berates herself for noticing the _shift_ in his damn hair. The motion and his already overbearing height make it appear like he’s looking down at her through his nose. Rey feels the immediate instinct to punch that nose… _hard_.

The sound of her car whirling up the drive breaks the moment. The valet jumps out. “Your car, ma’am.” He says politely and he holds the door open for her.

Rey smiles politely at the boy and she steps up to the car. “It’s a very tempting offer, but I think I’ll be alright.” She declares as she tosses her bag in the back. She’s prepared to give him one last ‘bugger off’ look, but as she goes to meet his eyes, she’s shocked to see the intense expression on his face. He appears almost feral and Rey scrambles to think of why he would look at her like that.

The guy can’t take rejection, it seems.

She breaks the intense eye contact and without another word she slides into the driver’s seat.

She doesn’t have to wait long for the passenger side door to open and for Rose to hop in with a guileful little expression on her face.

“And what took _you_ so long?” Rey demands as she starts to pull away from the courts.

Rose looks over at her cheekily. “What was Ben Solo talking to you about?”

Rey rolls her eyes. “He wanted to give me some unwarranted advice, the pompous prick.”

“There’s a lot of other things you can do with that _prick_. I totally got a vibe from him.” Rose smirks over at her. “He _so_ wants you.”

Rey scoffs. “Right, I’m like an old hag compared to the girls he probably sleeps with.”

“If you’re gonna talk like that, at least admit you’re a hot hag…and I don’t know Rey, maybe he likes the chase.” Rose puts her seat belt on. “You’re probably the only person who hasn’t fallen down at his feet and I bet it drives him crazy.”

Rey shakes her head. “I somehow doubt that.”

Except, for some reason, she can’t shake the vision of his almost incapacitating gaze as he watched her duck into her car.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit sexual content starting...now

“So Ben, what goes on in the back of your mind when you’re serving those insane aces?”

“I just focus on where I want the ball to go, and then I hit it as hard as I—can.”

Rey looks over at the television and rolls her eyes. It was a pre-recorded segment so they were able to censor his language. Ben looks enormous in the small director’s chair they have him in. The female interviewer just smiles very sweetly at him.

“And how would you describe your playing style on…or off the court?”

Ben nods absently while looking down and away from the interviewer. “Aggressive…intense…”

“Pft… what a wanker.” Rey grumbles as she shimmies into her dress. Her arms are struggling to pull up the zipper at her back when her hotel door opens.

“Hello, gorgeous!” Finn exclaims as he enters the room, a garment bag slung over his shoulder.

Rey looks over at him. “Will you help me with this, please?” She grunts as she finally gives up. The opening of the dress falls open.

Finn looks at her like she’s some sort of pathetic animal. “Rey, I thought we discussed this. You need to wear something _way_ hotter.”

Rey looks down at her sleek and practical black dress. “Finn, I’m not some twenty-something super model.”

“Right, you’re just a thirty-year-old bombshell.” He tsks. “Honey, I’m your manager, let me manage you.” Finn walks over to her. “Luckily for you, I picked this up on my way here.” He drops the garment bag on the bed.

Rey sighs loudly, but shimmies out of her current dress and unzips the bag. The dress is a dusty blue color with a high neck and draped torso. She pulls the silky garment out of the bag and looks at the back.

“Seriously Finn? I can’t wear a bra with this.”

Finn looks connivingly at her. “Babe, of course you can’t. The goal is for you to look classy, yet sexy—stop trying to fight it.”

“And Ben, last question, there’s some controversy surrounding your matches, and the—creative—language you use during these altercations. What do you think of the stigma of being known as a hot-headed player?”

Rey looks over at the television. Ben is staring at the interviewer blankly and the silence is palpable. And then he seems to snap out of it and his shoulders just shrug lightly. “I just like to have the discussion. Umpire’s want you to know they’re in control, but sometimes they make the wrong call and I think it’s only right that I let them know I disagree.” He says it so impassively it comes across like he’s talking about his distaste for still water instead of sparkling—or something as equally mundane.

“Jesus, that guy has balls…not including the ones in his pocket.” Finn whistles.

Rey shakes her head as she steps into the new dress. This zipper is lower and much easier to close. “How does the tosser even get away with it?”

Finn looks at her then. “Do you know who that is?”

Unfortunately, she’s had the pleasure of interacting with the git. However, Rey shrugs unsuspecting. Is she supposed to know who Ben is, aside from being a right prick?

Finn looks dramatically shocked. “That’s—Rey seriously? Have you been living under a bloody rock these last few years? Ben Solo? He’s like—royalty in America, let alone that his mother is like some heir of British nobility. His father is _the_ Han Solo who won the Formula One championship like five times in the 80’s. His uncle, Luke Skywalker has fifteen grand slams under his belt. Rey—what—how do you not know any of this?”

The name Luke Skywalker does ring a bell, a very distant one, back in her days when she was just starting out. But after the long dry spell of tennis career mediocrity, no one had really paid her any mind and she never involved herself in the goings on of the tennis community. She wasn’t aware of the social goings-on in the sport. She just played the game because she could rank high _enough_ and, maybe a bit foolishly, because she bloody _loved_ it so much.

Rey waves her hand. “You know I don’t care about any of that stuff.”

Finn sighs lamentedly. “But that whole family is just _so_ interesting! And Ben—woof…he’s all kinds of crazy—and also crazy fucking gorgeous.” Finn whistles again. “Like—I’m a walking tornado about to fuck you up in my chaos and you’ll love every minute of it— _crazy_.”

“I get it, Finn.” Rey says as she reaches for her shoes. After she steps into them and faces her manger/best friend she sees the disappointed look on his face.

“ _What?_ ”

Finn sighs. “Can I at least do your hair?”

-

Rey steps out of the car in front of the V&A and hands the valet the keys. Finn holds out his arm to her. “I wish you’d let me drive.” He says through a smile.

Rey looks over to where the paparazzi are shouting at Gwen Phasma. The tall, leggy blond smiles loftily as the camera’s flash. “If I have a glass too many, you can drive me back.”

Finn slides a curious look over at her. “Are you in party-mode?” There’s a bubbling excitement rising on his face and Rey shushes him.

“I definitely need champagne to get through these things.”

Finn grabs the first two glasses he sees by a passing waiter. “On it.” He hands one to her. “Only because you have a day to recover, but don’t go too hard. You know it’s harder to bounce back. I better not find you hiding behind the Michelangelo’s or the Bernini’s. This is your last Wimbledon, I’m trying to spin it as a ‘final hurrah’ story and you know—if you can at least make it to the quarterfinal—you will at least make it on The Sun…”

He is thankfully interrupted when Rose approaches them. “Hey gorgeous.” She says as she greets them.

Finn raises his hand. “Thank you—”

“You’ve come just in time.” Rey says as she grabs her friends’ arm and leads her away.

“You better stay on the first level!” Finn calls behind them.

Rose leans in. “What’s that all about?”

Rey takes a generous sip of her drink. “Finn’s trying to make me out as an old-maid deserving of her comeuppance during this grand slam. He wants to go out with a bang and fireworks and the lot of it.”

Rose nods in understanding. “Ah.” Rose gives her a once over. “Definitely not getting the old-maid vibe, more like a sexy maiden ready to blossom.”

“I don’t like your choice of analogy either.”

Rose nudges her. “You’re just here to have fun with it, and I’m all for being your wing-woman. Maybe you can go out with a totally different kind of _bang_.” Rose wiggles her eyebrows.

“Oh, come off it—” She’s interrupted when a tall and angular figure turns and accidentally bumps Rose.

Armitage Hux and his overly coifed ginger hair looks over at them with a mild look of disdain. “Oh, hello Tico.” He sniffs.

“Hux.” Rose sneers back.

He doesn’t say anything else, just scoots away.

Rey looks on bemused.

“Uh, what was that…?”

Rose just shrugs. “It’s just a foreplay thing we do.”

“Oh…” Rey says, feeling slightly nauseated for having witnessed it.

Rose sighs. “It looks like I have to go ‘find’ him in Korea to make out. You know, since I rep Korea and we have this whole role-play thing going—”

“I got it.” Rey says quickly. Rose scrunches her nose up at Rey and then peels off and heads towards the room of historic and contemporary Korean art.

Finn shows up again and this time he has an older gentleman with him. “Rey! There you are. I wanted to introduce you to an old friend of Obi’s.” Finn gestures to his left. “Rey Kenobi, meet Luke Skywalker.

_Ah, lovely_. Rey thinks, as she surveys the surly gentleman. Luke does not look happy to be there, or maybe he just isn’t pleased to see her. Rey feels a blush begin to rise to her face as she recalls their last encounter.

Rey plasters as polite a smile as she can manage. “It’s—uh—nice to meet you, Mr. Skywalker.”

He stares at her with one eye, his head turned slightly away. The interaction unnerves her. “I had no idea you were Obi-Wan’s adopted child. He used to be somewhat of a mentor of mine…” Rey has determined he’s grumbling the words at her, almost like he can’t believe the trollop he mistook as a hooker in Ben’s hotel room would be related to someone he might respect.

What a… _delightful_ man.

Rey nods. “And he’s certainly been a mentor of mine. He’s the reason I got into the sport.”

Luke smiles then, but it isn’t a friendly one. More like a smile someone gives when they feel the opposite of agreement to something one has said. “Well, I have learned over the years, that it’s not always advisable to follow in the footsteps of those we admire.”

_Well, fuck you too, then._

Rey just smiles back with as much feigned happiness as she can acquire. “It was so great meeting you.” She says through her grin.

Luke just watches her and then literally just hums, before walking away.

Finn looks over to her. “Okay, I know Luke isn’t like the cheery, gleeful kind of person, but he was more frigid than the ice sculpture over there—what was that?”

Rey shrugs. “I have no idea.” It was only just a reaction to one of the more humiliating moments of her existence.

Rey ends up having a really pleasant conversation with Amilyn Holdo, the president of the WTA. Amilyn kindly recalled Rey’s first Wimbledon match, when she made it to the semi-finals. It wasn’t often that Rey received praise anymore. Most people would ask her, “and who are you again?” or “didn’t you _almost_ win that Wimbledon however long ago?”

“Rey, I heard this is your last grand slam. I have to say, I was hoping we would see you in Flushing. You always show such great character and have such a natural instinct during your matches.” Amilyn says with admiration.

She’s interrupted from responding when Gwen Phasma whirls herself into the conversation. “Oh, Amilyn. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” She says, completely ignoring Rey, and the fact they were having a discussion.

Amilyn smiles tightly. “Gwen, I was actually—”

“You know, with two major championships under my belt and only two years in the circuit, I’m expecting to follow in Stephanie Graf’s footsteps.” She takes a sip of her seltzer, a point she always wants to make so it is adamantly clear that she does not drink during a major.

Rey silently wishes some of those bubbles would go up her nose and choke her.

Amilyn actually looks incredulous. “That would be something…” Rey admires this woman’s cheek.

“Yes, I am _very_ confident.” She says unperturbed.

She’s talking to Amilyn like Rey was never there in the first place. Rey decides now is a good time to excuse herself.

She exhales gratefully as a waiter passes with more champagne and she takes one stealthily. She wanders through some of the rooms to get as far from the garden as possible while remaining on the main level, per Finn’s wishes.

Rey stumbles upon a far corridor that is a featured exhibit. It’s an American collection of the mid 20th century. It’s appears to be entirely empty, and she revels in the peace of it.

She passes American impressionist paintings as she nears a chandelier on display in the middle of the room, the bloody thing must be the size of her living room. The crystals sparkle in front of her and she imagines there must be over a thousand of them. Through the shimmering crystal, she spots a portrait across the way of a woman dressed quite elegantly.

The woman appears to be wearing a high-neck silk gown in varying yellows, pinks and purples, the sleeves are wide and bell shaped, draping from above her elbow and down past the canvas. The slim line of her neck and shoulder are exposed. Rey determines she is quite beautiful. Her hair is pulled back in an intricate chignon and she’s looking far and away at something in the distance.

Rey thinks she looks lonely. She peers down at the plaque next to the painting.

_Padme Amidala, Ville Di Naboo Italy 1947_

“She doesn’t look very happy.” An all too familiar voice says from behind her.

Rey bites the inside of her cheek. She’s about to ask if he likes stalking and then sneaking up on people when they aren’t expecting it, but she thinks better of it.

“I think she looks a bit sad.” Rey tilts her head as she analyzes the painting.

“She probably was.” Ben says beside her. “She was married to one of the most notorious inventors of weaponry in America. When you’re always under such a scrutinizing lens, the expectations of others can really weigh down a person.”

Rey glances over at him. “You sound like you’re talking from experience.” For a moment, she thinks back to what Finn had said about his family, about living up to a legacy.

The illusion is broken when Ben shrugs. “I’ve experienced a similar feeling, being the best tennis player in the world, maybe even potentially the best of all time. Federer doesn’t have a chance against me this year, he’s lacking a returnable backhand to the serves I’ve been able to hit lately.”

“You certainly don’t have a lack of confidence.” Rey mumbles as she finishes off her champagne.

There goes her peaceful hideaway.

“I could give you some pointers, if you want.”

And there goes her attempt at maintaining politeness.

“Don’t tell me, it’s because you’re the best at giving advice as well.” Rey surmises, though there’s a tinge of sarcasm in her tone.

“There’s a lot I could probably advise you on. Your game, your mental toughness…your attitude.”

She turns to him and looks at him dubiously. “My attitude? Forgive me—no—actually, I’m once again puzzled at what kind of approach this is of yours. Do girls that fall at your feet usually like to be insulted?”

Ben looks down at her. “I’m not sure, most woman don’t ask so many questions or dig their heels in when they receive a compliment.”

Rey looks back at the painting. “I can’t recall receiving a compliment from you. And I will say your attempts at flirtation could use improvement.”

Ben scoffs then. “You would know if I was hitting on you.”

Okay, now she’s lost. Is there some generational divide going on here that she’s not aware of? When she was twenty-two boys would attempt teasing to let a girl know they liked her. Outright insulting and mansplaining is not Rey’s vibe.

“Oh, so you’re the best at that too? You’ve perfected the art of romance?”

“Well, I’m the best at everything.” Ben says seriously. So seriously, in fact, that Rey can’t help but snort in amusement.

“Right.”

Ben nods analytically. “I know I could make you come so hard you’ll feel it every time you bend down to return a serve.” He takes a step closer. “Your pussy will quiver in that little tennis skirt, longing for my cock—for it to be fucking you from behind while you’re on your knees.” His voice has descended to an almost inaudible level.

Well fucking hell. _That_ was unexpected. That was definitely _not_ Rey’s definition of romance.

But while Rey tries to stand by her tough façade, his voice alone feels like sex…and it has affected her.

The words could sound ridiculous, if Rey wasn’t currently in a sloshed state and wasn’t so fucking turned on by his filthy mouth _._ She reminds herself that he’s only just twenty-two. That was a sobering thought.

Rey twirls the empty glass of champagne between her two fingers absently.

“Hmm, and just what makes me such an intriguing pursuit?”

She stands there by the portrait and her breath becomes shallow as he confidently walks into her personal space. “It’s clear you’re tense. I can see it in the way you play. You get nervous and it’s through your instinct that gets you through a game, but just barely. I think you could benefit from some…stress relief. Some casual, yet mind-bending orgasms—it will help loosen you up. You’re too in your head. Let me help you get out of it.”

He doesn’t answer her question, but it’s clearer than anything to Rey that for some unfathomable reason, this guy wants to fuck her. Maybe it is her lack of swooning that has him all in a tizzy, that’s making him try and get what he wants a little more aggressively.

Rey has decided, right now, that she is very turned on by this aggression.

“You got all that from watching me practice for a whole five minutes?” She intones.

“You know, I can take whatever I want. And I know, the idea of it turns you on more than you want to admit. You’ll be begging for me soon enough.” He says the words in such a low timbre that she feels it reverberate deep in her stomach.

She feels is travel inexplicably lower…

Rey has pride, she does. When it comes to cocky bastards, she can really show them where to shove it. She is a strong, independent woman after all.

So, shove it, because why not let this Ben Solo try and fuck her to oblivion? Is she really so above it all that she would turn away a man nearly chomping at the bit to get into her knickers?

She should at least let him _attempt_ to live up to his declarations.

Yeah… _fuck_ it. Without another word or another thought, Rey lifts her chin and yanks him down by the shoulders so that she can smash her lips against his.

His reaction is immediate. He crushes her body against his own. His hands jolt out and grabs her waist as he pulls her impossibly close. She can feel every hard line of his body pulled taught against hers. The rigid length of him pokes into her abdomen.

She moans then, because he definitely knows how to use his mouth. Bens hand drops down from her waist to roughly grab at her arse.

Correction, he knows how to use his mouth _and_ his hands.

Rey can feel the dampness in her knickers and fuck, would it be possible to have his cock in her at the bloody V&A?

She pulls her mouth away with much effort. She watches the way his breathing leaves him raggedly and she feels wholly aflame.

Catching her breath, Rey wipes the back of her hand across her mouth roughly.

“Alright.” She breathes and she stares into his dilated eyes. “You can shag me six ways to Sunday, if you so please.” She huffs and she watches as his face morphs from hesitation to pure, unadulterated desire.

What the fuck has she just agreed to?

-

They stumble into his hotel suite, all wandering hands and staggering steps. Rey lets him guide her into the room. She does remember that the bedroom was somewhere over to the left…

She yelps as Ben picks her up and her legs part under the skirt of her dress so they can wrap around him. He holds her like she weighs nothing and her head is now a few inches above his, allowing her to take control of how she sucks his face off.

His hands squeeze underneath her ass and she can feel his long fingers inch towards her sex.

She groans as she feels them prod lightly closer…closer and Ben takes her bottom lip between his teeth and pulls at it harshly.

Rey can only imagine what other aggressive things he can do to her.

He pulls away and looks behind her before lightly tossing her on the bed. She feels oddly considered by the action and it feels unusual given the situation they’re now in.

She watches on perched elbows as he pulls at his tie, loosening it, before yanking it off. His eyes never leave her face.

“I could tie you up and make you beg for it. Do you want that?”

Fuck, Rey sort of does want that. But she’s also so wired and hasn’t been fucked in ages and she’s way too impatient to play any fucking games.

“I want you to get on top of me and make me come as hard as you’d promised me.”

Ben tosses the tie away. “Next time, then.”

Rey’s foggy brain tries to consider the fact that she might have agreed to a full tournament fuck-fest. She may win a grand slam after all…

Ben basically yanks at the buttons of his dress shirt, seemingly very impatient as he works at his cuffs. The tiny buttons against his giant fingers proves difficult and he curses in frustration.

“Fuck…”

Rey rolls up onto her knees and reaches up for his cuffs. With deft fingers she unhooks them. When she looks up, Ben is staring down at her like at any moment he’s going to pounce.

Rey finds that she doesn’t mind in the _least_.

Her arms scramble behind her back to get her zipper undone, but that familiar impatience that comes with Ben’s aggression comes to a head when he ducks his own beneath her skirt.

“Oh, _bollocks_.” She breathes as his mouth instantly latches on to her sex and mouths at her through her knickers.

She lays there for a moment and she tries to reign in her senses as he hooks his fingers around the sides of her underwear and yanks them down her legs.

She’s able to help get one leg free before he pushes it down against the mattress and his tongue is now laving at her center.

Rey clumsily pulls at her skirt so that she can see the broad shoulders that are splitting her in two and the sight of him going down on her makes her cunt clench.

A little sound escapes her mouth as his one hand comes down to replace his tongue and Rey’s back arches away from the mattress as she feels a digit enter her.

Now that his mouth is no longer preoccupied, it goes right back to saying obscenely filthy things to her.

“Fuck, your cunt is so fucking tight. You’re fucking dripping for me.”

Said cunt squeezes for him in agreement.

“When I fuck you, you’re going to be so stuffed with my cock you’ll feel empty when I’m not there.” He adds a second finger.

“Oh, _fuck._ ” She keens as she feels his thumb press against her clit. They’ve hardly started, yet she feels her orgasm coming on so fast she’s surprised by its impending arrival.

He seems to sense this and his thumb starts to circle steadily around her clit.

It only takes three swipes and Rey comes.

She releases what she can guess is some kind of feral groaning sound, but it sounds very far away and really her brain is short-circuiting by the way her cunt is pulsing around his fingers.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” She hears him say at the end of the bed.

Rey feels like jelly incarnate, possibly spreadable now by the way he’s warmed her up.

“Just wait until you have my cock inside of you…”

She becomes coherent enough to roll over. “Help me with this, will you? I want to be bloody naked when you do.” Her arm flops around her back as she tries to locate her zipper.

Every nerve ending sizzles when she feels his hand come up to the middle of her back and pulls the zipper down brutishly. She’s so fucking ready for his cock that she doesn’t care to scold him about not ripping all her clothes. As much as the thought drives shooting sparks to her cunt, she has grown fond of this dress quite a bit.

Once undone, Rey turns and wiggles out of the dress. She’s suddenly thankful she had to forgo a bra and she’s now naked and flushed on the bed.

When she looks at Ben, he is now shirtless, and she notices he had begun undoing his trousers, but he paused—his bulge half out—and is just staring at her.

She’s aware of her nudeness but something about the way he’s looking makes her head turn down to assess what could possibly be so fascinating.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He says. “I knew I wanted to fuck you the moment I saw you in my shower.” His hand reaches down into his briefs as he pulls his erection out.

Rey’s gaze looks to where his hand is and _holy fucking shit,_ he is…endowed.

He doesn’t take his pants off before he lunges on top of her. His cock rubs against her lower abdomen as his mouth moves furiously against hers.

“I’m going to make a complete _mess_ out of you.”

A thought comes to her and she pushes him back slightly.

“Just a minute.”

He only detaches his mouth a hair graze away, panting against her. “What?” He asks hurriedly. His hands are still roving up and down her body and it’s making it hard to concentrate.

Rey forces him back with her arm. Ben looks disheveled and a bit put off at the pause. Rey tries to shake the look he’s giving her away from her subconscious. She’s trying to use her brain dammit. Her entire body is internally panicking as to _why_ she’s interfering with her own ultimate, and most definitely mind-blowing, release.

“Just—this arrangement. I need a little clarification. Especially if you intend to shag me without a condom.” She says as she motions to his leaking cock that looks oh-so-fucking-delicious.

Ben looks confused. “What are you talking about?”

Seriously? “Well I’m on birth control—thanks for asking—and aside from that, the bigger issue is exactly how many women on the circuit do you intend to do this with? Look—I’ve had my share of stupid and careless decisions in the past, so I want to make sure you know I’m not looking for any surprises.”

Ben just stares at her, and then, “I’m not going to sleep around with anyone else during the tournament.” He says and he leans closer to her. “And I take very good care of my personal health.”

Rey blinks. “Oh, right.” She supposes if Ben were to give her an STI she could just come back here and disembowel him… that wouldn’t put a damper on his Wimbledon experience. Surely not. However, she’s now the one who’s a bit confused. “So…what exactly are we doing here?”

His nose judges her own as his lips ghost over hers. “I’m helping you relieve that stress you’ve built up over however many years. You’ll have a much clearer head when you’re on the court. You’ll see the difference.” He says as his lips press down against hers. “You’ll be hooked. You’ll be coming back for more of it.” His head moves to suck on her neck lightly.

His cock strokes against her stomach and Rey swallows. Her body is tapping its proverbial foot impatiently saying, _are you satisfied now? Can we get on to this big dicking appointment?_

It’s still unclear to her as to why Ben Solo decided that _she_ is going to be the one he fucks his stress out with, but as she wonders this the tip of his cock nudges at her entrance and she decides it’s really not worth worrying about.

“Bloody hell, just get on with it then.” She groans as he teases her.

Ben’s hand roves up her torso, skimming her breasts, before winding up into her hair and pulling slightly. She’s about to snap at him again but the sound is shoved out of her mouth as she feels his cock impale her all the way to the brim in one swift thrust.

She’s more than ready, but she is so shocked by the onslaught of sensations at being _so full_ and as he drags his cock out of her slowly a moan falls from her throat along with it.

“You’re very impatient.” He grunts against her and he thrusts back inside of her.

Rey’s breath catches. “Something else you can help me improve on?” She huffs.

“You’ll definitely feel improved, when I’m done making a mess out of your cunt.” Ben grits as he presses into her. His hair is falling over his face with the effort. He bends forward and captures her mouth in a consuming kiss. His tongue swirls around hers as his hips swivel in a rotating motion.

And bloody hell, she hardly wants to admit it to herself, but he does know how to use his cock. Her cunt starts to throb in appreciation. Sensing the nearness of her orgasm Ben sits up on his knees and starts to thrust into her more vigorously.

Rey hasn’t been fucked so brutally before, and she finds her body is very receptive to it.

One of Ben’s thrusts hits exceptionally deep and Rey groans. “Oh, fuck.” She gasps and she knows she’s close.

“Do you want to come Rey?” She’s a bit unsuspecting by his question and there’s an edge to his voice that makes her eyes fly up to his. When they look into his almost pitch-black ones, he’s looking down at her with a look so intense Rey feels subdued by it.

When she doesn’t answer he starts to slow down and Rey’s thoughts go haywire. “Wha—why’dya stop?” She mumbles, the feeling of her impending release ebbing away just out of reach. “Don’t stop.”

Ben is still staring at her intensely. “Do you want to come?” He asks again, and he says it in a way that gives her the sense that he is commanding her to beg for her orgasm.

Part of her is a bit pissed by the power move…but another, smaller, _darker_ part of her fucking _mewls_.

Rey is beyond her pride, beyond the need to hold out because _why_? The idea alone sounds bloody idiotic to her and she’s so ready to come around a cock—and he has an exceptional one. _Oh fucking tits_ , she just wants to come.

She nods a little deliriously. “Yes.” She rasps as she feels her need pulling taut against her every nerve ending at each slow drag of his cock. “Yes, _yes_ I want come.

Ben’s speed picks up to a slightly quicker rhythm. It’s not _enough_ but it feels better. “Okay, you can come.” He says, but he doesn’t pick up the pace. “You can come…if you can be good.”

Rey wants to bloody scream, what the actual fuck…

“Can you do that, Rey?” He asks. “It’ll feel even better when you can finally fall apart.”

Rey thinks she might kill him. Once she has her orgasm, she might actually kill him. Her hand reaches down towards her clit, but his hands instantly leave her hips and goes to grab her wrist and then the other, pinning them beside her head.

A tear of frustration falls down the side of her face. “What the _fuck_?”

The length of his body stretches over her and he shakes his head. “Do you want to come the hardest you’ve ever come in your life?” His voice is so deep and it vibrates through her and all the way down to her pussy. His hips continue their swooping thrusts inside of her and each time he enters her she feels the subtle push towards that peak, but it’s slow moving.

“Mmm-uh.” She groans and her legs start to twitch in discomfort. “P-please.” She says as she tries to move against him faster.

“You’re gonna feel fucking euphoric when you finally fucking gush all over me.” Ben grates as he keeps his pace.

Rey feels like she’s about to combust, except she can’t quite get there and it’s maddening. She isn’t even sure if she will feel relief when she finally gets to come at this point.

She stares up at him blankly. The pleasure is beginning to mix with an ache that overwhelms her and she can’t move. And then when she truly believes she might actually lose it, Ben releases one of her hands and his thumb presses against her clit.

The jolt of pleasure is so immediate she cries out and it’s a loud and desperate wail. She is shocked to know she could even make such a sound.

“I’m about to give you the best fucking orgasm of your entire life.” Ben rasps against her ear as his thumb starts to circle her clit and his hips suddenly speed up. He ruts into her with such force that her increasing pleasure magnifies tenfold.

Rey will later describe the experience of when she comes as something similar to free falling for a full ten seconds before crashing into a cloud of bliss so severe, so oddly _comforting_ that she feels as if she’s no longer in a bed, and Ben is no longer there. It’s her and her pleasure and Ben was right, it is fucking _euphoric_.

Somewhere above her Ben stutters and curses as he reaches his release. His cock pumps into her with three long strokes as she feels his come surge inside of her.

It takes her awhile to float back down, to feel her surroundings again. Her breath comes out of her slow and shallow. Some of her awareness comes back when she feels his cock pull out of her and the gush of fluid that goes with it. Absently she feels a puddle beneath her and she thinks it’s possible that it was her, that she might have squirted. She’s never done that before, so she can’t know for sure, but it is an absolute _mess_ beneath her. Yet at the same time, she still can’t be bothered to move, can’t be bothered to care really.

“You’re a god-damn fucking dream.” She hears above her. She feels warmth around her and she watches as Ben lifts her and puts her where he’d pulled the bedspread off of the bed so she’s now laying on dry sheets. He rolls beside her, his head perched on his hand as he looks down at her. His hand reaches out to brush her tousled hair away from her face.

She’s able to slowly look over at him, a powerful drowsiness overcoming her. “Fucking hell.” She mumbles and he smirks down at her. Usually she would probably snark at him for being such a prick, but as much as she doesn’t want to admit it to him, she really did just have the best sex of her life.

Rey’s eyes begin to flutter shut and she does try to keep them open.

Ben’s caress on her face makes it increasingly difficult for her stay conscious. “You can sleep now.” She hears him say above her.

And Rey is beyond contentment, beyond all feeling and her eyes close.

That night, for the first time in ages, she has a peaceful and dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Rey walks out onto the court. The high-noon sun is beating down and it’s a balmy first day of Wimbledon. She walks over to her seat and places her bag down.

She spots Finn among the spectators. He holds up a handkerchief that appears to have her face printed on it. Rey shakes her head at her friend.

It’s possible he’s one of the very few fans there cheering her on.

Her opponent is Korr Sella from Guyana. She is ranked as the 28th seed and projected to move forward without any issues.

Rey had really just wanted to at least make it through the first round.

_Okay, Kenobi_. _You can do better than out first round._ Rey swings her shoulders and bounces around to loosen up.

She tries to ignore the fact that, while still nervous, there is something about her that just feels _different_.

And no, she will not admit that much of it had to do with the absolute, mind-blowing, out of body orgasm she experienced on Saturday night. Or, the subsequent orgasms that followed that morning. She is adamant to not give Ben Solo too much credit…

But every muscle in her body is thrumming with energy and nothing feels tight.

She is both in awe and terrified at the power her pussy holds.

Korr is set to serve first. The odds are ever against Rey it seems.

The ball girl runs up to her and Rey hands her a towel to hold. “I’m rooting for you miss.” The girl says sweetly and Rey smiles.

“I apologize if I muck it up too much—have you running around all over the place…even if it’s your job.” Rey replies with a wink and the girl just smiles back timidly.

_Okay, get your bloody head in the game Kenobi. You just have to break her serve. You can break her._

Korr serves an ace. 15-0.

_Bloody hell, not a good first start._

For whatever reason, and Rey is not impressed with herself for allowing it, but Ben’s face pops up in her bloody head and she can just see the look of disappointment he’s giving her. She imagines him saying, _I gave you the best fucking orgasm of your entire life, and this is what you’re doing with it?_

_Alright, settle down brain._

Korr sets up for her next serve and Rey gets down in her knees. She does feel the way her cunt stretches at the movement and she’s suddenly brought back to the memory of Ben’s cock and—fuck-all she needs to focus.

Korr serves and Rey is able to return it. They volley back and forth for the point, but it ultimately goes to Korr when Rey slaps it into the net.

_Oh, fucking cock-sucking ball nuts._

Rey is able to get one point, but the game goes to Korr. Rey looks down at her racket as she tucks the fly-aways behind her ears with her free hand.

She knows this match isn’t televised, but she oddly wonders if Ben is watching. She sort of hates the idea that he is and that if she loses this match she’ll have to deal with his arrogant _“I told you so_ ” attitude and the very idea of it makes her grit her teeth.

Korr wins the first set, as is to be expected. Rey walks over to the other side of the net. As she sets up her serve, bouncing the ball once, then twice she thinks of what Ben had said.

_“You’re swinging too early on your serve.”_

Rey huffs as she swings and it’s a fault.

_Bollocks_.

She bounces the ball once, then twice and lines it up with her racket. She takes a breath as she throws the ball in the air. She hesitates a second longer before she swings and the ball arches across the net. Korr returns but she doesn’t have control of it. The ball bounces out.

15-0.

_Bloody hell_. Rey huffs, the hairs that have fallen in front of her face fly up as she bounces the ball once, then twice and sets up once again. When she serves this time, Korr returns but the ball has air and it gives Rey plenty of time to line up her next hit.

30-0

“Thirty-love.” The umpire says calmly.

Rey takes a deep breath.

_One more point…only fifteen more to bloody go…_

She keeps concentration as she makes sure her shoulders don’t rotate too early on her serve and she’s now at almost a 90% success rate.

Rey wins the second set.

The crowd seems a little more animated now. The possibility of an upset hanging in the air. This time, in the third set, Rey is able to anticipate a lot of Korr’s strategies and with her new power serve she’s able to stay just behind.

It’s now 6-6 and they’re in the tiebreak to determine the champion.

_Alright Kenobi, you just have to win three more. That’s all, just three points. No games, no bloody deuce. Three more and then you’ve won the tiebreak. Just don’t turn this into a fucking back and forth neck strainer. Get this done or you’re a right twit._

Korr looks annoyed. She probably expected this to be an easy match. Rey doesn’t blame her. If she were her, she would probably be thinking the same thing.

Who is she kidding, with her track record? Rey never thinks anything is guaranteed. However, she is feeling much more confident that she can make it to the next round. As long as she doesn’t muff it up.

For whatever reason, as she’s swaying from side to side, staying nimble for the return, all she can bloody think about is the fact that if she wins this, she’s still in the tournament.

And fuck it all, she’s going to earn her next bloody shag.

Korr grunts as she serves. Rey’s eyes follow the ball as it zooms towards her. She returns with a backhand. Korr runs up to the net, clearly intending to pull a trick move.

_Oh bollocks._ Rey pants as she hustles up to return what appears to be a tap in. She somehow makes it and when the ball bounces once, twice and then falls to the ground and bounces once…and then twice. Rey actually shouts.

“Yes!” Her hand curls into a fist and for the first time since the entire match she hears the crowd cheer, and this time they’re cheering for her.

Just two more points to go.

-

Rey advances to the next round.

-

Rose is in her hotel room that evening. They ordered room service and have the men’s match on. It’s Ben Solo vs. a non-ranked player from Slovenia. He’s sure to win in three straight sets. Rey tries to not look too interested as they watch the game. Rose is looking at stats for their upcoming opponents.

“Hmm Kaydel Ko Connix might be a tricky one when you make it to third round.”

Rey noshes on a fry. “If I make it to third.”

“When.” Rose rebuts leaving no room for comment.

There’s cheering as Ben wins his match. The commentator talks about the game and Ben’s mental toughness and aggression. They’re doing their post-match interviews. It’s Ben’s turn and the interviewer asks him how he plans to prepare for the next match.

“I just keep my focus, study my opponent. This is still the start, but I always make sure I’m in the best headspace. I have my methods of de-stressing and I stick to them.”

Rey turns to look at the television.

“I heard he has a ritual for de-stressing.” Rose remarks deviously. “Some of the girls in the lockerroom were actually talking about it. He has like a fuckbuddy throughout every tournament.”

Rey’s eyebrows raise and she keeps her eyes trained on the telly, not looking at Rose. “Oh?”

“Oh yes. The girl from Germany was talking about it. She _clearly_ wants to be the one. I mean, Ben is hot, but damn—the way girls fawn over him. He’s a douche and yet he gets all the pussy.”

Rey chews her bottom lip as she thinks about the pussy he’s actually getting… Bloody hell she really might have lost her damn mind. What was going through her head when she agreed to be Ben’s trollop of the tournament? She’s a grown-ass woman, why is she suddenly feeling ashamed of it? She’s never done anything like this before, never really been given the opportunity. Players do it all the time. She still recalls Finn’s comment to her when she went to the Olympics that one year. He all but forced her to make sure she was on birth control because 'nothing like an Olympic baby—and no knowledge of the baby daddy—to spice up your career.'

“It’s a good thing Hux is pretty undesirable. I don’t have much competition there.” Rose quips.

Rey gets up to use the loo. “But yet…you desire him, right?” She has a sneaking suspicion that Rose more than desires him, but for some reason she doesn’t want to admit it.

As she takes a piss, she hears the hotel phone ring. Who the hell could that be?

“Do you want me to answer it?” Rose calls.

Rey shrugs to no one as she reaches for the paper roll. “Nah, it can go to answerphone. Maybe it’s just concierge confirming we got our food.”

She flushes the toilet and as the sound fades away the answer machine on the telephone beeps. Suddenly an all too familiar voice sounds on the other end.

“Hey, about to do press before heading back to the hotel. By the way, congratulations champ—I see you took my advice on that serve. How’s about I meet you in my room in about an hour and we celebrate with a nice, hard fuck—” Rey has rushed out of the bathroom and leapt over the bed to slam the phone down and end the call.

She glances up in trepidation at her friend. Rose looks at her like she’s grown another head. The realization of who just left that message dawns on her face in a series of emotions and it’s a slow transformation from ‘what the fuck?’ to ‘who the fuck?’ to “HOLY FUCKING SHIT REY—”

“Ah, bugger it.” Rey doesn’t know what to say. Guess her secret title as Ben’s ‘fuckbuddy of the major’ is out now.

-

Rey is able to usher Rose out of her room. Rose looks at her with such a shit-eating grin on her face as she says, “have a good dicking down tonight!”, before Rey can close the door.

She rides the lift up to the fourteenth floor an hour and a half later. One other person is in the lift with her and it’s an awkward silence. Rey can _feel_ the furtive glances her lift companion is shooting her way. She can tell he clearly wants to say something and she’s about to turn to him and ask him what he would like to say when he bucks up the courage.

“Good work today.” The man says as they ascend much too slowly for Rey’s liking. She’s already on edge in anticipation for what’s to come. Interacting with strangers in the lift is not helping matters.

“Uh, thank you.” She says as she watches the numbers tick.

The man hums. “My wife and I were big Obi-Wan fans back in the day.”

Rey wants to roll her eyes. If she got a pound for every time she got that one…

She’s luckily rescued from having to answer as the lift dings at the fourteenth floor. “Have a pleasant evening.” She says politely as she exits.

It’s not entirely clear to her, as she walks down the hall, why she checks her surroundings for other people. The thought of being recognized while walking into Ben Solo’s hotel room makes her wary for reasons she’s not willing to address just yet.

She knocks sharply on his door and is about to walk inside the instant he opens it, but she’s stopped when he doesn’t move out of the doorframe.

He looks down at her with some sort of cocky expression and she narrows her eyes at him.

“Can I help you?” He asks and Rey just stares at him. What kind of bloody game does he think he’s playing at?

She steels herself. “Actually, I think I’ve come to the wrong room, I’ll just—” She motions down the hall with her pointer finger and turns in that direction. She’s about to take a step when he leans forward and corrals her into the room with his arm around her waist.

“Feeling feisty from your win? I know the feeling.” He mutters into her ear as he presses her against the wall next to the door. He feels warm and hard all over. He smells like he just showered and when she reaches her hand up to his hair, she can feel the dampness there as she runs her fingers through it.

“Well, thanks to your voicemail, Rose is now aware that there is some sort of…physical interaction going on between us.”

Ben pulls back so he can look at her. “Is this…supposed to be a secret?” He looks quizzical.

Rey thinks for a minute. “I mean…no, but I guess it’s just… not very British to announce these things to the world.”

“I literally left you a voice message that I assumed would be heard just by you.” Ben says blankly.

“Yes, _I know_.” Rey snaps and she’s about to scold him about being a prick and understanding the word _covertness_ and _privacy_ when he swoops in and takes advantage of her half-open mouth. His tongue weaves between her own in such a way that it has her thoughts instantly muddled. Damn him and his talented mouth.

He presses her harder against the wall and he has to bend down a bit to stay level with her mouth. His chest is taut against her and he’s already hard, the wanker.

“First round down, six to go.” He mumbles against her neck as his hands get busy pushing her shirt up. His hands are massive as they slide up her torso and palm her breasts firmly. She wants to comment on his confidence, and how her own is not evenly matched, but she thinks talking might have to be tabled for the time being.

Ben pulls her t-shirt over her head and his eyes trail up and then down her body. She feels every nerve ending heat as she watches his stare. They stay focused on her breasts as she breathes in deeply. His hands go next to her hips and he pushes the joggers she’d thrown on to the floor. Rey stumbles a little as she tries to step out of them. The hem catching on her ankles.

“Oh bollocks.” She swears as she tries to kick them off. Once freed, Ben instantly picks her up and she yelps. His hands hold her arse as he presses his lips against hers once more. She swears this man and his way with his mouth…

He starts to move then, his lips still pulling against hers. Rey expects them to move to the bedroom, but she’s surprised when Ben puts her down on a harder surface. She looks back to see the dining table in the middle of the room beneath her. His eyes are dark as he slowly pushes her down against the wood.

Rey is certain the look alone has her knickers soaked. She rests on her elbows as she looks up at him standing between her legs. She lifts one and uses her toe to push his shirt up his abdomen. She can feel the hard ridges of his abs under the ball of her foot.

He looks like he would like nothing more than to feast on _her_ on this very surface.

That heady, sensual feeling that now comes over Rey whenever she is in this man’s presence starts to take control as she says, “take your clothes off.”

Ben obeys quickly. His shirt flies off and he drops his shorts all in a matter of a second.

Rey doesn’t break eye contact as she nods downwards. “All of it.”

He doesn’t either as his hands go to his briefs and pulls them down his legs.

Rey sits up then and her hand goes behind her back to unhook her bra. Ben leans forward then so that their faces are only inches apart. His hands rest on her hips and he slides her closer to him causing Rey’s breath to catch.

His breathing is shallow as his fingers dip into her underwear, and slowly drags them down her legs. When they’re past her knees he bends one and pulls her leg out so that they slide down her other leg and onto the floor. He presses a kiss to her bent knee. His other hand trails up her thigh and spreads her wide open.

Ben’s eyes flick down then and Rey swears she can feel them burn into her cunt.

“Did you feel it?” He asks as his finger sinks down inside of her. He pulls some of her wetness out and rubs it along her pussy lips. He watches his ministrations with great concentration. “Did you feel the ghost of my cock stretching you out today during your match?”

He’s fingering her now at a steady pace and Rey’s mind is babbling nonsense, so all that comes out is—“I—uhh—”

Ben’s shoulder keeps her bent leg pushed outwards, while his hand holds down her other and he leans in to kiss her inner thigh while he inserts a second finger.

“The whole way back from the court, all I could think about was sinking deep into your cunt.” He mutters against her thigh and his thumb presses forward onto her clit, causing her back to arch. “I thought about you begging for it. I know how impatient you get.” Her legs are left immobilized by his body and she’s unable to use them to help push herself closer to him, to press her cunt to his mouth. It’s something she finds she _desperately_ wants.

“Ughhh, bloody do it then.” She groans and her head drops back against the table as his fingers dip in and out of her. She attempts to clench around them, but he’s too quick and she’s too wet. She’s feeling crazed with his ministrations.

The prick obviously enjoys teasing her. “Do…what, Rey?”

She looks up at him then with a fire in her expression. She tries to convey, with her eyes, exactly how exasperated she is at the situation. Her pussy just won’t calm the fuck down.

And she’s not going to make it.

“Just _fuck_ me already, Ben. And this time, a good ol’ pussy pounding will be just fine. I do not need to be transported to an immobilized euphoric state _every_ time we have sex. Enough with the bloody teas—” She’s cut off when his hand immediately disappears and he slides his cock swiftly inside of her.

“Just like that?” He gasps as he pulls out and pumps back into her. “Is this what you need?”

He’s thrusting into her with long and steady strokes. She feels her arse stick to the wood of the table as he continues, allowing his thrusts to feel extra rough, go even deeper. The tip of his cock brushes against that sweet spot inside of her with every thrust and she moans.

It seems to fuel him on. At the sound of her moan he stands up straighter, his hands gripping her hips and impaling her body onto his cock with a brutish force.

His cock is now pounding against her g-spot and Rey feels her toes curl sharply. Her hands grip the edge of the table for dear life.

“Holy _fucking hell_.” She sighs as he rams into her.

Ben grunts. “You like this Rey? You like when I impale you on my cock? You like it hard and fast.”

She’s beyond forming words as each thrust pushes her higher and higher. She can feel the way her orgasm is building, and the sudden feeling of weightlessness hits her and everything around her seems to buzz out of her conscious…

And then her cunt is spasming around him before she grips his cock in a vice grip. A scream that sounds out-of-body slips out of her and she gasps as she tries to just—fucking—breathe.

“Fuck.” Ben chokes and his thrusts speed up. His grip on her hips is inexplicably tight. He gives her hips one hard squeeze before he pulls his cock out of her. Her cunt clenches around nothing at the sudden loss. She looks up just in time to watch Ben pump his cock with a couple gruff strokes before his come spurts out and splays across her abdomen and chest. Her eyes zero in on his spend as his cock gives one last squirt right between her breasts and Rey looks dazedly at the milky white mess.

Ben pants over her, his hand still on his cock, and his eyes stare down the semen he painted all over her. “You look so hot like this.” He says as his eyes flit between her breasts, her stomach and her dripping cunt. “With my come all over you.”

Rey watches his expression as she runs a hand through the substance and rubs it between her fingers. He looks transfixed as he looks at her hand, his mouth hanging open as he sucks in haphazard breaths of air.

“I definitely need a shower.” Her words seem to snap him out of his daze and his hands reach for hers as he helps her up and off the table. She feels his come roll down her body and drip to the floor.

He watches her go towards the bathroom with an unreadable expression on his face.

When she enters the familiar room her eyes zero in on that wonderful rain shower.

“We meet again…” she mumbles and she sighs under the warm spray.

Once she washes off the remnants of their coupling and realizing she’d left her clothes strewn about in the other room, Rey decides to take advantage of the luxuries of having a suite. She slides the fluffy bathrobe that was hanging in the closet on and she feels like she’s being wrapped in a soft, fluffy cloud.

When she exits, she sees Ben sitting on one of the couches with the television on. He’d thrown his shorts back on but is still shirtless. He looks over at her when she sits beside him, and it seems like he’s about to say something, but then he doesn’t. The sound of the television breaks whatever odd tension that had begun to fill the room.

_“First round matches kicked off with an impressive start. The most unusual yet was the match between Guyanese Korr Sella and our very own Rey Kenobi. Kenobi moves on to the next round after a grueling tie break, superseding the 28 th seed. She will play Min Sakul of Ukraine in the second round…”_

“Do you know Min’s playing style?” Ben asks still watching the screen.

Rey shrugs. “I watched some of her matches at the French.” She watches the broadcaster on the screen with deaf ears. “It all feels a bit strange. Here I am, a wild card entry, literally the last person on people’s minds…” She trails off unsure about how any sort of recognition makes her feel. It’s been so long. She only came to Wimbledon because it was going to be her last tournament before retirement. She was going to end it where it all began, but she really didn’t think past the game itself.

Ben looks over at her then with a bewildered expression. “You really think so little of yourself? This is your last tournament, and there’s literally nothing stopping you from getting to the final other than yourself.”

Rey nibbles at her lip. “Yes, I know that.”

“Do you?” He’s asking rhetorically. “You have all this potential. You just have to get out of your head. Stop thinking about what all those people think of you, of what you could do. They don’t matter.” He shakes his head slightly. “They’re nothing, just spectators that enjoy craning their necks from left to right over and over and over again.”

Rey can’t help the little smile that cracks on the edge of her lip. “They really are, aren’t they? Bloody tossers.”

Ben turns his head up to the ceiling. “Yeah, FUCK the tossers!” He shouts and Rey leans over to smack him.

“Shut up, will you? You’ll wake the whole bloody hotel.” He defends her attack and leans further away.

“FUCKING TOSSERS!” He roars and Rey goes to cover his mouth.

Rey pounces on him.

The fucking tosser.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Somewhat public sex

Rey’s match against Min goes surprisingly well. She wins in straight sets.

That night Ben fucks her from behind while she’s on her hands and knees on one of the sofas in his suite. Rey screams into a cushion when she comes.

For the first time, in a long time, Rey feels…alive. She’s come more in the last few days than she has in her whole life, but aside from that, her surprising success in the tournament thus far has made her think a bit more about her goals, about her future.

Rey would describe her life before this Wimbledon as a sort of stasis. There was that brief time when she was twenty years old, when she was a projected star in the tennis world. She was a new hope for Britain and on the rise to win a major. But she ended up being her own worst enemy, and she never made it and all she was ever known as was ‘that English girl that almost won a major that one time’. Ever since then she was always on the sidelines, still playing because she loved the game and because she didn’t know what else she was bloody good for.

She’s volleying with Rose the day before her match against Kaydel Ko Connix. She’s practicing returning trick shots, something Kaydel is known for doing to throw her opponents off.

When they’re finished and in the locker room Rose asks the question she’s clearly been dying to ask since she heard Ben’s voice message the other night.

“So… what’s he like?”

Rey looks over at Rose. The small woman looks as her with raised eyebrows.

Rey blanches. “Uh, he’s…fine.”

“Fine? Just… fine?!” Rose shakes her head. “Girl, tournament sex needs to be more than fine. Otherwise what’s the point? Why do you think I sleep with Hux?” She doesn’t give Rey time to answer. “Like oddly mind-blowing orgasms—it’s odd but it’s also pretty amazing.”

Rey shakes her head. “I mean, it is more than fine.” She supplies. She thinks back to last night and the memory definitely induces a blush. “It’s kind of mental, actually.”

“Mental is a good thing, right?” Rose asks curiously. “Like, I know Brits say that when people are crazy, but is it good crazy? Or like, he’s got some weird fetish like ankles and toes or something. I could totally see that for him.” Rose looks thoughtful.

“NO—no, he doesn’t have any weird fetishes... he’s just…”

“I’m literally on the edge of my seat here.” Rose pries.

“He’s…intense?”

“…So, he fucks your brains out.” Rose shrugs. “That does seem very on brand for him.”

Rey does blush then, when she thinks about how he had her on the sofa in his suite…how the legs skidded across the hardwood floor with each ruthless thrust of his hips…

“He just has so much energy and stamina.” Rey decides this is a good description for it, without going into too much detail.

Rose sighs. “Damn, I should go for a younger man.” She looks wistful.

“Isn’t Hux only twenty-six…and isn’t he technically younger than you?”

Rose holds up her hand. “Listen, twenty-two-year-old Rose was a freaking animal. Twenty-seven-year-old Rose likes to have an orgasm and then go to sleep. There’s a big difference alright? I mean, just imagining that kind of power from a guy? Jesus take the wheel!”

Rey just nods absently. She can admit that one mind-blowing orgasm from Ben does wear her out enough that she always has a very nice, deep sleep. Her stress dreams are basically non-existent. And then in the mornings, when he wakes her up with his mouth or his cock it’s like a shock to the system. Who even needs caffeine when she has Ben Solo pumping her full of straight energy? It’s like a power shot, is what it is. A steroid right into her blood stream.

As much as she hates to admit it, he was right, her matches have been much easier to assess. She goes into the game with a much clearer mind and her body is _so_ relaxed and pliable, she’s able to control the game on instinct.

If her unexpected progress at Wimbledon isn’t proof enough…

Ben was probably on to something when he suggested their arrangement. Rey can’t deny that she has been full-heartedly enjoying her new stress relieving routine.

They’re walking down the hall of the practice center when another competitor comes into view with her practice mate. Rey isn’t paying attention but she makes way for them to pass only to be shouldered quite harshly by the other woman. She’s about to excuse herself, oddly feeling like the gesture was intentional, but not sure as to why, when the girl goes—

“Watch out, slut.”

Rose and Rey both freeze. “Excuse me?” Rey sputters.

The girl is brunette with piercing blue eyes. Rey thinks she might be the girl from…Bulgaria? She isn’t sure, her practice mate snickers next to her. What in the fucking hell…?

“I would enjoy him while you can…I know I did.” She sneers and then she smirks before turning away, clearly pleased with herself.

Rey looks at Rose and Rose looks beside herself. “Oh-okay, that was pretty fucking awesome. What a little jealous bitch.”

Rey groans. “Fucking hell, how many of these girls has Ben fucking slept with?” Rey asks to no one.

“I think that was Bazine Netal…you might play her in the semifinal. That is… if we match up and you beat me. Holy shit, your last Wimbledon, it rocks.” Rose babbles on beside her. “I’m so here for it…but wait, you’re okay right? You’re not…” She trails off and Rey while is very curious as to what she is about to say she also would like to just move on and forget about the interaction entirely.

“Rose, we are literally just fucking, and you know what, it’s possible it is helping my game, but that’s it. I have no emotional attachment to Ben. The thought alone is just—it’s not an option. There would be nothing stupider than me growing feelings for a twenty-two-year old tennis star who clearly likes to have a woman of the major kind of thing going every tournament.”

She can feel Rose’s stare sear through the right side of her face. “Right, keeping your head in the game, that’s good.” She says factually.

“I’m just being practical. He certainly thinks nothing more of our—situation as anything other than a gratifying convenience.”

She’s ignores it, but she can see Rose glancing at her from her peripheral. “Wow, I think that’s like what every heroine says at the beginning of a Jane Austen novel…and you _know_ how those stories end.”

“Oh, bugger off!” Rey sighs as her friend giggles beside her.

-

Rey’s match against Kaydel is that evening and Ben’s match is in the afternoon slot. She decides to go to the courts early and sneak in to watch some of Ben’s match from the players box.

He’s playing Dominic Beaumont, another brit that Rey’s seen around at the few tennis events Finn had forced her to attend a few years back.

It’s now the third set, and it’s 6-5. Ben looks irritated as he serves another fault. He lets out a yell of frustration. It’s deuce point and if he lets Dominic break his serve there’s a chance, he loses the set.

Rey steeples her fingers as she watches. Ben has made a few errors this set, and it’s clear he’s pissed at himself. She watches the way he angrily wipes the sweat away from his brow as he lines up his serve. His hair is tied back in a sort of half-up, half-down pony tail so that it’s not falling into his eyes. Rey thinks he might be one of the few people who can pull off that look. This is the first match where she’s watched Ben play in person, and while she knows his aggressive and tempestuous playing style is more frowned upon than commended—there’s a part of her that is enraptured by it, and she can’t look away.

He grunts ferociously as he serves a 242kmh service and Dominic doesn’t have a chance. Rey won’t deny that her thighs rub together juuust a little bit as she watches him dominate to score the advantage point.

Who is she kidding? Watching Ben play, watching his physicality has Rey turned on beyond belief.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to watch his match before her own.

They rally back and forth as Ben tries to win the set point.

“Out.” The umpire calls on Ben’s last hit.

Ben absolutely loses it.

“What? Are you KIDDING me?” He throws his arms out in disbelief. “That was not out! THAT WAS NOT OUT!” He takes a few steps towards the umpire chair. “Could you not see with your eyes, are you blind?” He shouts.

Rey corrects her previous statement, watching Ben play was arousing…but also a bit headache inducing. She can see Luke behind him in his box with his fingers pressed against his temple.

Rey watches as Dominic looks back at his coach and shakes his head in disbelief. She can see him mouth ‘are you serious?’.

The umpire, who stays collected the entire time looks at Ben. “Do you want to challenge?” He asks with such austere coolness and Ben just glares.

He looks thoroughly disgruntled, but he just waves his hand dismissively. “You should just be aware that you made a bad call, that’s all.” He says dismissively.

The umpire’s expression doesn’t change but he does shake his head as he signals for the match to proceed.

Ben does win the set and, after only two more heated outbursts, he ultimately wins the match.

Rey goes down towards the locker room to prepare for her match, but honestly her mind is a jumbled mess and she’s all wound up.

Watching Ben’s last set was like watching a lion stalk, pounce and then obliterate its prey for a full 60 minutes. And he did it with the virile ferocity that had Rey’s knickers all in a damp fucking twist.

She does question whether she’s lost some, if not all sense when she ‘wanders’ over to the men’s changing room. She plans to leave it up to chance, and the tennis gods must be smiling down on her, because Ben exits the locker room just as she rounds the corner.

And again, she would like to put the blame on her lack of sense, and her weakness in denying her horniness the dicking down it deserves, but as he approaches her with a curious look in his eye, she practically grabs at him and pulls him into the exit stairwell.

“What’s wrong—” He is in the midst of asking before she crushes her mouth against his. Ben drops his tennis bag to the ground with a ‘thud’. His hands weave around her waist as he pushes her against the cinderblock wall.

Rey breaks away and pulls him around the corner to where the stairs begin so they’re out of sight of the narrow glass window on the door.

“I watched your sodding match and now I’m wound up tighter than the strings of a bloody racket, alright?” She rushes out as her hands dart for the drawstring of his shorts.

Ben smirks down at her. “I think I’ve corrupted you.” His smirk turns into a grin as she grunts exasperated. She doesn’t bother pushing his shorts down, instead she just reaches in and grips his already half-hard cock.

“Look, I’m having a situation alright?” Rey sputters. “I do _not_ have a clear head right now. My match starts in about thirty minutes and if you’re really as good as you say, you can get me off in this stairwell in under two. Or are you willing to surrender the title?” She challenges as she looks up into his darkening eyes.

He licks his lips as he looks down at her heaving torso. “My come is going to be dripping out of you during your whole match.” Rey shivers. The thought of it seems to have put him into some sort of horndog trance. She’s wearing athletic shorts and there’s enough space in the leg opening for him to fit his whole hand into and his fingers waste no time slipping inside of her heat. “Jesus, you’re so fucking wet. Did it turn you on watching me kick that fucker’s ass?”

Rey frowns as she grinds down on his hand. “We’re wasting valuable seconds here.”

Ben laughs lightly and shakes his head. His freshly showered hair flings droplets across her face. His hand pulls out of her and he lifts her up quickly before pressing her against the wall. “Do you want me to time it?” He asks against her lips.

She rests her weight on his shoulders so he can have more access to his hands. Her arse is the width of his entire forearm as he holds her up with one arm. His free hand goes to pull his cock out of his shorts. He then uses his weight to keep her up against the wall as his hand shoves her shorts and underwear to the side as he lines his cock up to her entrance.

Rey gasps as he pushes into her. He seems to test their positioning and his hand hold with a few slow strokes. It seems like he finally decides on one because in the next moment he’s thrusting up into her with such force all the breath leaves her lungs as he fucks her into the wall.

“You’re going to kill it this match.” He grunts as he ruts into her. “Connix stats are all over the place, and her serve isn’t consistent. You’ll absolutely destroy her.” He starts to almost pull her hips down and onto his cock and it makes him go inexplicably _deeper_. Rey’s mouth opens in a silent ‘oh’.

Ben drags her mercilessly against his cock and Rey feels her orgasm brimming. “ _Fuck_.” She gasps into his shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Come for me as I fuck you against the fucking wall. Fuck, anyone could walk into this stairwell right now and find us. They’ll see me balls deep inside you. I hope they catch us as I’m pumping your little cunt full of my come.”

Rey lets out a disjointed sound as she comes. Her pussy quivers around him as her whole body seizes up. She bites down onto his shoulder to suppress her groan.

“Shit.” Ben grunts next to her ear and his hips stutter and press her hard against the cinderblock as he empties inside her.

Rey is panting heavily as he leans against her and holds her up with just his weight and his still semi-erect cock. After a moment, and with more care than Rey expects, Ben slowly eases out of her. She instantly feels his come succumb to gravity and start to pool in her knickers. Something about it makes her shiver in delight.

They both try to catch their breath and Ben lowers her legs down so she can stand.

Rey pants up at him. “Right…” Her breath catches in her throat. “Good form.” Her tone is slightly astonished. The ache has definitely ebbed, and while Rey feels like she might have just sprinted a mile in under five minutes, she feels pretty fucking fantastic.

Ben smirks down at her. “You’re welcome.”

_Prick_.

Rey makes sure to visibly, and a bit obnoxiously, roll her eyes. “I’ll—ah—see you, then.”

Ben’s smirk doesn’t move. “Yeah, I’ll see you. I’ll be watching.” He motions upwards with his head towards the stands.

Rey doesn’t know why the thought of it spreads warmth through her still vibrating body.

The vibration only increases when he leans down and plants a kiss on her lips. “Kill it.” He says and as he pulls away, he winks at her.

And somewhere in the back of Rey’s mind she’s thinking to herself—

_I think I’m in trouble._

-

Ben was right, Kaydel did have a faulty serve. It is a three-set match however and Rey is beating herself up over a few unforced errors.

And as much as her quickie with Ben in the stairwell helped her relax, his come dripping out of her every so often—whether it was waiting to return a serve, or having to sprint to the net because Kaydel went for one of her trick shots—every time a glob of his fucking spend unceremoniously ‘plops’ out of her cunt and into her knickers she is _instantly_ distracted.

She imagines Ben snickering at the thought.

_Now is NOT_ _the time to be thinking about this._

In the end, Rey wins the match 6-4 in the third set. She and Kaydel shake hands amicably at the net.

“Great job.” Kaydel says kindly.

“Thank you.” Rey replies and they both go to shake the umpire’s hand.

It’s an odd feeling, because it’s still early in the tournament, but she’s in the fourth round. She thinks of that news segment she watched the other night after she defeated Korr Sella. If people were shocked she made it to the second round, what were they saying now that she is moving on to the fourth?

Finn is there to intercept her once she leaves the locker room.

“Babe, bloody incredible. Some British tabloids are already buzzing about you. My underdog narrative is taking off!”

Rey shakes her head at Finn.

“So, your next opponent is Jannah Williams. She is a top-notch chick and an absolute power house. I actually have this thing going on with her manager. We’re trying to keep it amicable, but my player comes first.” Finn prattles on as they walk down the hall.

“I thought I was your bloody best friend first.” Rey grouses.

Finn looks over at her feigning hurt. “Uh, of course you are Peanut. But all this stuff is actually important, and if you keep progressing it’s gonna get mental. I’m trying to prepare you.”

Rey sighs. She knows in a way he’s right, but there is a part of her that is still really hoping to just ignore everything outside of the little bubble she’s put herself in. And all that’s in that bubble is her, her game… and Ben.

_And Ben._

She hadn’t told Finn yet, she convinces herself it’s because she knows how he’s going to react, how he’s going to want to use it to improve her stardom or whatever. However, as she thinks about it more, and the fact that it’s not exactly covert news, this is probably something Finn should know.

Once they’re in her car and driving back to the hotel Rey decides to mention it.

“So, I do have something to tell you.” She says offhandedly.

Finn is looking at his phone and he just hums in response.

Rey decides she’s just going to come out and say it, no preamble. “I sort have been sleeping with Ben Solo since the tourney started.” She says the words quickly, she slows BB-8 down when they reach a red light.

She’s able to look over at her best friend then, because he hasn’t said anything. When she looks, she sees Finn staring back at her with a blank expression. He must still be processing.

A moment longer and then, “I’m sorry, what?” He asks with no emotion. Rey thinks maybe he’s in shock?

“I’ve been fucking Ben—”

“Oh-oh okay, yeah, sure—yep. I was just making sure I heard that correctly.” And then it seems like the processing has fully loaded because then, “YOU WAITED THIS LONG TO TELL ME THIS?” Finn balks. “I—You…Miss ‘I thought I was your bloody best friend first’!”

Rey sighs guiltily. “I know Finn. But I’m telling you now!”

“Rey, that is definitely vital information that as a friend—would have been nice to know, but as a manager—it’s like PR 101. The paps would swarm around that story like moths to a bloody bonfire. If we’re not ahead of it they’ll tear this news to bloody shreds. I know it’s sexist, and I’m all about gender equality, but the media loves to tear women down—it’s like their life force.” Finn uses his hands when he accentuates the word ‘force’.

“Well, I was sort of hoping no one would find out about it.”

Finn makes an appalled sound. “No one would—Rey, honey, people find these things out. I mean who knows about it now?”

Rey thinks briefly. “I don’t think anyone except Rose? And maybe Bazine Netal because she body checked me in the hallway and called me a slut…”

“She—WHAT?” Finn is absolutely buzzing with energy now. “Oh, her majesty’s crown jewels, it’s probably buzzing through the underground…how did Oscar not say anything—that two-faced twit.” Finn starts mumbling to himself and doing something frantically on his phone.

“The underground?”

Finn waves his hand. “No, don’t even worry about it babes. Focus on your match with Jannah and if you do drop your knickers for Ben Solo just do try to make sure no one gets a picture of it. Tabs can be so nasty.” He’s shaking his head quite animatedly. “So bloody nasty.”

Rey sighs lowly. “Got it. No more public romps in stairwells.”

There is a pregnant pause and then, “I SO want to know this story, especially the details. Also… I am _very_ impressed with you, mighty good work. You are finally living that pro tennis player lifestyle that was my dream to manage since I was a wee lad.” He sounds wistful.

“Happy to oblige.” She says with sarcasm.

Finn does a few more things on his phone before he drops it into his lap. “Okay, I have statements written up just in case. Now…tell me about this stairwell romp.”

Rey shrinks in her seat a bit. “What?”

“Uh yes, for the next twenty minutes it’s girl talk. I seriously hope we run into traffic in London because you’re going to tell me exactly how this all came to be.”

Oh bother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I were ever to become famous, I'd want Finn to manage me ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all aboard the feels train...

Rey’s previous conversation with Finn about the press and the tabloids must have been a premonition. She’s read his written statements on: what to say if she made it to the quarter final, what to say when people asked what was ‘going through her head’ during her matches, and she is especially grateful for the que cards on what to say if people ever ask about Ben Solo.

It was a godsend really, because she does defeat Jannah in another bloody tiebreak and she’s absolutely mentally wrecked. And this time when she does her post-win interview, the questions have drastically changed from what they were before.

She’s standing there on the court, still trying to catch her breath, still sweating worse than a fucking polar bear would in South East Asia, and the interviewer is asking her one of those dreaded questions.

“So Rey, you’re moving on to the quarterfinal. What’s going through your head right now?”

_What’s going through my head? I’m about ready to collapse after somehow breaking Jannah William’s twice, barely scraping by in the bloody tie break. I want to take a fucking shower so badly, I am beyond drenched in sweat, it’s probably worse than a drowned rat. But really, after all that, all I really want to do is fall into my bed and have Ben Solo preform cunnilingus on my pussy until I come AT LEAST twice…_

“Uh, I’m a bit shocked.” Rey says and there are some chuckles and cheers from the audience.

That’s another thing that’s drastically changed. She’s started to see more English flags waving in the air, her awareness of the crowds has become more acute, and she’s heard the words ‘Go Rey!’ shouted at least a few dozen times.

“I think the rest of England is also quite pleased to watch your progress.” The interviewer supplies. “It looks like your next match up will be against Rose Tico, I believe she’s a friend of yours?”

Rey was not aware of this. Rose had her match sometime before hers and she had been in her own focus bubble leading up to her own match. “She is.” Rey nods. “We’re practice mates.”

“How does it feel going into the quarterfinal and meeting up with a familiar opponent.”

She’s ready for this to be over. Interviews were never her strong point, if anything, they were probably her weakest point. “Maybe it will be just like practice?” She jokes and the crowd laughs.

“Well, we’re excited to see how you fare tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Rey says and she waves to the applauding crowd. As she exits the court, she’s stunned to see people waiting on the sidelines with tennis balls, calling her name.

“Rey, over here Rey!”

“Will you please sign this for me, Rey!”

“Brilliant work, Rey!”

She smiles and quickly signs a few programs and tennis balls before she exits the court. She’s down the hall smiling politely at the congratulatory remarks as she walks when it finally hits her.

She still in this bloody thing.

-

They’re lying naked in the bed, limbs tangled in each other’s and in the sheets. Ben pulls at a tendril of Rey’s hair.

“Are you ready for your match tomorrow?” He always wants to know her strategy, always wants to offer up his opinion. Rey has gotten used to it by now, and while it used to annoy her in the past, she now knows it’s not to be an arrogant prick—even though he still is one of those—but he actually genuinely cares about her success. It’s an odd thing, since Rey’s hardly known him more than a week, but the companionship Ben offers other than the sex is far more than Rey expected.

And she’s discovered that she likes it.

It’s a bit worrying, but with everything going on and the tournament to focus on, Rey has decided to simply—not go there.

She sighs against his chest. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

She feels him nod into her hair. “It can be difficult, facing a friend.” He says, though Rey is curious how he can impart this kind of wisdom. Seeing as she would only constitute Hux as the closest thing he has to a friendly opponent, and she knows Ben wouldn’t give beating his ass a second thought. “But, at the same time, you practice with Rose all the time. You _know_ her. You know her style, her tells for her serves, what shots she can handle…and the ones she can’t. I don’t think she’d think less of you for using that knowledge to your advantage.”

Rey nudges her chin into his shoulder. “You’re saying I should be ruthless.” She says, she doesn’t ask, because she knows that’s _exactly_ what he’s saying.

“You’re doing the best you’ve done in a tournament since you hit the circuit. You were a wild card and now you’re exceeding beyond everyone’s expectation. You have the crowd on your side. And this is the last one, this is it. You have a shot at the final, you really do. You have a chance to make history. And trust me, everyone would much prefer if it were you than Phasma.” His hand that was playing with her hair drops to her shoulder. Rey scoots and rests her weight on her elbow as she looks over at him.

“I still have two matches to fight through to get there.” She shakes her head in disbelief.

Ben nods. “You do.” She feels his hand start to rub circles in the middle of her back. It’s crazy how much it soothes her. “But you can get there. You gotta believe in yourself, even just a little bit.” Even though he’s telling her this so factually, there is something in his eyes that looks so earnest. It’s an expression that has her stomach knotting up. As she looks into his eyes, she feels like he’s staring beyond her and right into her soul and how did she even get here?

Not how did she get here into his bed, because that decision path was _very_ clear. But, how did her final Wimbledon, her final major, become this life-altering event? If she wins this match, if she makes it to the final, everything changes. She could say no to that humiliating retirement job at the club. She would have something to show for her otherwise dismal career. She could start her life in any way she chooses.

For that last part, she already feels like—win or lose—she could do that anyway. She has changed exponentially in both her professional, her personal—and hell even her sexual—life.

It feels like an awakening. It feels like she’s no longer just doing what everyone always expects. It feels like fucking freedom.

She stares back into Ben’s eyes and she sees pride, desire, and something possibly akin to reverence. Honestly, no one has ever looked at her that way. It scares her more than the bloody tournament. No one has ever believed in her the way Ben does. He believes in in her in a way where she _knows_ he gets it—he gets her.

Rey doesn’t understand how someone she’s only known for such a short amount of time, could make it feel like there was a time before Ben, and a time after. It’s as evident as night and day. She looks back at the ghost of herself from five days ago, and she knows she is different. Even though he’s just supposed to be her fuck buddy, she never expected these other feelings to crop up. She isn’t supposed to feel this way.

They are only supposed to be fucking.

And then, in the back of her mind, she tries to constantly remind herself that he _doesn’t_ feel the same way she does. It’s the only sort of reminder she can give herself to keep those unwarranted emotions in check.

“And what about you?” She asks.

Ben looks at her. “What about me?”

Rey knows she’s deflecting to stop her mind from going _insane_. “How do you feel about your match, about winning Wimbledon?”

He shrugs, but he doesn’t have to think about his answer. “I’ve been training to win Wimbledon for my entire life. I’ve known I was going to win all of these majors, one way or another, since I was ten-years old. I know what I have to do to stay focused. I know what to do to be great, and as long as I do all the things I’m supposed to do, I’m basically unstoppable.”

Rey shakes her head in disbelief. “How are you so bloody confident all the time?”

“I love to win, so to get what I want, well, I work very hard at it, so hard that it’s almost impossible to lose. And I’ve worked my ass off this year.” Rey notices that Ben has a way of viewing things very analytically, always focusing on his scope. It truly attests to his sharpness and to his passion for the sport. It’s commendable if not also a bit terrifying.

“What happens if you lose?” She watches him and he looks disbelieving, like what she just said was _cute_ and entirely unrealistic. She realizes that this is the first time she’s ever really spoken to him, not about sex, not the nonsense bickering they do, and not about her. Rey still has _no_ idea who Ben Solo actually is and when she asks this question, it brings her back to those deeper thoughts about what happens _after_.

Ben huffs softly, a small smile pulling up at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think about what happens if I lose. Why worry about something that probably won’t happen?” The way he says it, so finitely, so assuredly, like it’s an impossibility.

Because he’s fucking twenty-two and of course he’s not concerned about when things _don’t_ work out. Ben seems to have lived his whole life with one sole expectation, with only one goal.

And she knows she doesn’t fit in the narrative of that goal.

Rey thinks about that niggling fear of hers. That fear of all of this being over. She thinks about what Finn had said a few days ago, about Ben being a tornado of chaos. Rey realizes that she is but a bit of debris in his path that got swooped up, churned up, and then will soon promptly be discarded in his wake.

Rey sits up and checks the time on the alarm clock by the bed. “I should go,” she says. “Got an early morning and all that.” She attempts poorly to untangle her legs from the sheets.

Ben just watches her struggle. “You can stay here.” He says, like it would be a practical solution. It never sounds like it’s something that he actually wants and, in a way, Rey is grateful for it.

Rey pulls her joggers back on by the side of the bed. She shakes her head loftily. “I think this time, everything with the quarterfinal match has me—I don’t know, but you have the day off and I don’t want to bother you with my early morning.” She’d spent the night before for other matches, and she knows she’s sort of using Rose as an excuse, but she feels emotionally drained being here and it’s not the headspace she thinks she can handle right now.

He’s normally in the habit of arguing with her, but he doesn’t and she supposes she is correct in thinking that he would respect her wishes like this.

Once she’s got her clothes back on, she looks at him on the bed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Uh, yup.” He says as he watches her walk out of the room.

She tries to ignore the unusual sinking feeling in her stomach as she hears the hotel room door click behind her. She tries to ignore all of these ulterior feelings she’s developed for Ben Solo in only seven days. She tries.

She really does.

-

Rey wakes up at 6 a.m. the next morning to a knock on her door. She’s already wide awake, having slept pretty terribly. Her thoughts a muddled mess of her quarterfinal match and Ben Solo.

She opens the door to find one of her haunting dreams in real form right in front of her. She pokes Ben’s chest in a moment of insanity.

“What was that for?” He says as he looks down at his chest.

Rey narrows her eyes and brushes it off. “Nothing.” He walks into her room. “Uh, what are you doing here and why are you up so early?” She hardly gets the door closed before he’s crowding her and holding her face between his hands and kissing her enthusiastically.

He pulls away from her lips, but he’s still all up in her personal space. “Do you want to fuck before your match?” He says as his hands move from her face to hold her waist and press her flush against himself. “I can get your mind off of all the things I’m sure you’re stressing yourself over.”

Rey is surprised. She’s surprised he showed up here. She’s surprised at her own conscious that is internally squealing because yes, she absolutely wants this—needs this even—and she’s a bit in awe at how well he seems to know this.

It’s another warning sign that her bodyguard of emotions often wards off. She shoves it away and focuses on the proposition at hand instead.

She doesn’t reply with words, and instead she presses up on her toes and bites at his mouth. He instantly responds, his arms wrapping entirely around her waist and lifting her up so she can be more level with his mouth.

He walks towards her bed and practically falls onto it, catching himself on his palms so that he doesn’t crush her with his weight.

Rey’s hands claw at his shirt as she frantically pulls it up and over his head. His hands go for her sleep shorts and he sheds them off of her along with her underwear.

Something about this feels frenzied and she a rush of energy floodd through her body as she pushes him over onto his back and straddles him. Her bare cunt is already damp and it rubs against the faint tuft of hair at his abdomen.

One of Ben’s hands reaches up to slide between her folds and his stomach. His finger pokes up into her center and he growls as he feels the wetness there. She can feel his erection prod at her backside. Rey reaches back and pushes his shorts and boxers down so she can palm his cock. She slips it out of his waistband and feels it nudge at the skin at her lower back. Her hand runs up and down his length as his hand continues to stroke her in return.

She almost can’t bear the teasing anymore so she rises up on her knees and aligns his cock beneath her before sliding down. She gasps as he fills her, the stretch is more intense having had very little foreplay. Rey rises up his cock slightly and sits back down, giving her cunt time to accommodate him. Once she adjusts, she starts to rock back and forth against him. His hands come to her hips and he helps move her a bit forcefully against himself. Her clit drags against his pelvis and she hums in pleasure.

“Yeah, that’s it, babe.” Ben says as she gyrates on top of him. “You feel so fucking tight.” He grunts as he looks up at her.

Rey rests her hands on his shoulders to give her better control of her thrusts. From this angle he’s slots deeper with each rock of her hips. “Fuck Ben, I need—” She gasps as one abrupt thrust from him hits her g-spot.

“Do you need more?” He gasps out and his hand goes to her clit and his thumb swipes over it as he continues to thrust up into her.

Rey cries out. “Fuck… yeah…” She whimpers as she feels her orgasm start to wind up tight.

“Fucking Christ.” He grunts. “Seeing you like this, riding me, it’s so fucking sexy. It makes me want to fucking bust inside of you.” Her cunt clenches him and he growls. “Yeah? Do you want that Rey? Do you want me to come in you right now?”

Rey’s eyes squeeze shut in tandem with her pussy. One thing her time with Ben has taught her, is that she goes fucking batshit for his dirty talk.

“Unh, _yes_.” She moans as his thumb swirls quicker.

Ben’s thrusts get sloppier. “I’m going to—! God, I’m going to fucking come so hard inside of you…”

Her pussy starts to convulse around him and he fucks up into her harder. Rey’s climax sings through her and she slams down on his dick as she feels her walls constrict around him. A little cry escapes her as she’s overcome with the full-body sensations.

“Fuck—” He lifts her up and slams her down once, twice and then she feels his cock twitch inside of her as he comes. He shudders beneath her as the last remnants of his orgasm finishes and he stills.

Rey catches her breath, still straddling his waist. She stares at him as she comes down from her afterglow.

He’s catching his own breath and the air escapes the soft ‘o’ of his mouth with every exhale. She’s mesmerized by the shape of it.

After another moment she slowly raises off of him and uses her shorts to sop up some of the come that pools at his pelvic bone. She then plops down onto the bed. He rolls over onto his side, one hand nestled under his head and the other loops around her waist and nudges her into him.

She feels his breath brush across the side of her face. Her arm that’s between them comes up to rest along his cheek.

And she thinks about the anxiety she had last night as she wondered about these feelings that are clearly there. Feelings that seem less and less one-sided every single day. And maybe it isn’t wise to pretend, but she’d rather not face it now—not when it feels so bloody good. Not when she doesn’t want it to fucking end.

She should just focus on the next five days and whatever happens after that, well, that’s a problem for five days from now.

That’s a problem for later.

-

As Rey sets up to serve, her eyes glance across the court to where Rose is readying up for the return. She thinks about what Ben said last night.

_This is it. This is your fucking last major…and you’re so close. You’re so bloody close Kenobi._

Rey takes a deep breath as she bounces the ball once, then twice and sets up. She closes her eyes and feels the silence surround her.

When she tosses the ball in the air, she watches as it flies up into the sun and out of sight.

And then she swings.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the feels train keeps on chugging...

“So Rey, you’re going to be in the semifinals. Does this bring you back at all to your last semifinal at Wimbledon?”

Rey scratches behind her ear as she thinks on the question. She thinks about Finn’s cue cards he’d given her, reminding her of what to say to certain questions. But she’s bloody terrible at this, no matter the preparation.

But in her past press conferences they weren’t much of a to-do. It was the same basic questioning, but now she’s a match away from the final, and her decades old history is popping up in the media and all of Britain is suddenly buzzing at the thought of _two_ brits facing off in the final. It has all the makings of a killer headline, and it’s making big news.

“Um, a little bit yes.” She remembers Finn telling her—'do not elaborate unless you are prodded, and always redirect whenever possible.’ So, she tries to keep it as tight-lipped as she can.

“What are your thoughts on your match up with Bazine Netal? Your next few potential opponents are all ranked in the top ten.”

“Er, yeah it definitely looks like I have some difficult matches ahead.” Rey nods into the mic.

“And what are your thoughts of facing off with Gwen Phasma, if you make it to the final? There hasn’t been a British champion since 1936, it could be a case of _who_ that champion will be. How will you manage that sort of pressure?”

_Oh bugger it_. She’s ready for this press conference to be over.

“It would be pretty…incredible to make it to final. I—uh, I guess if that were to happen it would certainly be a show. With all the Britain memorabilia I’ll have twice the fans.” The joke is out before she can think better of it, but the press laughs good-naturedly.

“How does it feel, with this being your final major before retirement, to have made it this far. Do you think you’ve felt extra motivated to be where you are, to keep going?”

Rey blanches slightly. Her past tournaments have been one in the same, her progress dependent on whether she can get out of her head or not. And the one difference in all of it that possibly helped her do that was a certain tall, twenty-two-year-old stallion that she’s fucked every single day since the tournament began.

But no, that of course cann _ot_ be her answer to the question.

“I think this Wimbledon holds a special place in my heart. I’ve definitely made it a memorable one.”

She looks over and sees Finn giving her a thumbs up and motions that she’s good to wrap up. She turns back to the mic. “Thank you, everyone.” She says before she stands. Some camera’s flash and a few reporters stand up and shout a few questions at her, but she tunes them out.

“You did great, darling.” Finn says as she approaches him. “Now we have to hurry and get you changed. We have to get to the ESPN event at 6 tonight, you have to at least make an appearance now.”

Rey groans, she’s mentally exhausted. The thought of schmoozing more people makes her want to scream in frustration.

“How long of an appearance?”

Finn shrugs as they walk down the hall towards the valet. “At least an hour.”

_Oh piss it._ Rey’s subconscious laments stridently.

-

Rey decides to let Finn drive BB-8 to the ESPN party. The event is being held at the Tobacco Dock, a renovated industrial space with gorgeous views of London. She fidgets in the tight summer dress Finn had made her wear. It’s a deep olive green with a cinched waist and column skirt with two tiers at the hem and it’s made of 100% linen, which makes it 100% unforgiving.

The Tobacco Dock has a big lot and they’re allowed to park themselves. Finn grumbles about the annoyance of having to find BB-8 later, but Rey prefers the freedom of not having to rely on valet.

This time when she heads towards the entrance the paparazzi at the door yell her name. She does a quick wave as the camera’s snap before she ducks her head and rushes through the door.

The space has been staged with a lot of greenery. There’s an outside area with grass spaces set up with croquette. The summer sun still shines bright in the sky casting a sunny glow among the green. Hedges line the area but also create a sort of maze area on one end. Rey supposes it’s supposed to be experiential.

“Okay babes, there’s only five people or so you really need to talk to. And Darcy from Lacoste, pretty sure they want to sponsor you. I already gave them your measurements…” Finn fixes his suit. “Oh, and there’s one now. Come on, Peanut.”

Rey tries not to frown as she gets pulled towards a hedge sculpture in the shape of a tennis racket.

Thirty minutes later and she’s still talking to Snap Wexley, an account manager for ESPN, discussing future endeavors that she really does _not_ want to think about. Finn has run off to schmooze a rep for Dior, because he ‘absolutely thinks Rey would be a perfect face for their new perfume line’. And lest she forget, if she makes it to the final, and even if she doesn’t win, Pandora wants her to represent a new charm bracelet coming out that September, because ‘ _all_ of England is absolutely in love with her and her Wimbledon journey and they will _demand_ a token of that achievement.’

Needless to say, Rey is fucking exhausted and she plans to have a nice long sleep in tomorrow in recovery for her semi-final match. She starts to daydream about it as she nods to whatever Snap is talking about and her thoughts drift to Ben and whether she’d be able to sneak into his room tonight. She imagines him kissing her, and telling her how brilliant she was in her match, she imagines being held in his arms as she falls asleep, of the ultimate, dreamless rest that awaits her as she burrows into his chest…

“Excuse me,” she’s thrown out of her thoughts immediately at the sound of his voice. Had she willed him here with her over-arching imagination? She blinks over to where Ben is standing right beside them, a little smirk dancing on his features. “Rey Kenobi?” He asks.

A rush of warmth floods her at the site of him in a suit and she decides it’s an extremely sexy look for him. “Uh, hello Ben Solo.”

Ben holds his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, heard a lot about you. I’ve been meaning to talk to you actually.” Rey takes his hand and she feels the warmth of his palm heat her to her core. “I heard from my manager that you were in talks with Lacoste for a partnership, but I swear the Nike guy over there was just talking about a partnership for us?”

Rey raises her eyebrows as she tries to determine what his angle is. “For us, together?” She asks and feigns shock.

Snap Wexley looks on with keen interest as he observes the two of them. Ben turns to him and Rey swears Snap’s mouth drops open slightly. “I’m Ben Solo.” He says and holds his hand out to Snap. The stupefied man blubbers slightly as he shakes Ben’s hand.

“I know I—Snap, Snap Wexley. It’s—man it’s great to meet you, really big fan, hoping to see you go all the way man.” Snap nods his head like a bobblehead as he speaks and Rey thinks it’s a bit dizzying.

The side of Ben’s mouth turns up. “Good to meet you. I hope you don’t mind if I borrow Rey for a second. There’s some logistics with the partnership I just mentioned that need to be discussed.”

Snap nods enthusiastically. “Oh, of course, yeah.” He’s about to say something else, but Ben thankfully whisks her away.

“Oh thank god, honestly, that man could talk forever.” Rey mutters as they walk further away from Snap.

Ben looks amused. “Hm, you are quite the woman of the hour.” He says and she realizes he’s leading them towards the hedge maze. Rey feels a blush lift to her cheeks as they move out of site of the party. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way.” He says against her ear, and the timber of it makes her shiver. “Think you might camouflage with the hedges though.” He jokes as his hand comes to rest on her lower back as he walks them deeper into the maze. “Maybe when I devour you behind one of them, no one will be able to see us.”

Rey smacks his chest. “Prick.” She grouses, but she’s hardly against the idea of him kissing her senseless.

They round a few more shrubs and end up in a corner that seems entirely deserted before Ben whips her around and crashes his mouth against hers. He sucks at her face for a good full minute before breaking away.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I fucking saw you walk into this stupid event.” He grumbles and his hand comes up to cup her jaw as he reaches for her mouth once more and plunges his tongue inside.

Rey moans delightedly against him. Her arms come up to wrap around his neck and she tries to pull him inexplicably closer. Ben’s hand that isn’t touching her face gropes down to cup her arse and he squeezes her _hard_ , pushing her against his growing erection.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He growls against her lips.

Rey can’t help the shiver that runs through her as she imagines what’s in store for her once she’s naked and in a bed with him.

She looks up into his darkening expression and she licks her lips. She watches as his eyes follow her tongue with sharp concentration. “I did only promise Finn one hour, so yes, desperately.” She breathes.

Ben takes her hand and she has to practically jog to keep up with his long strides, but she doesn’t care. She’s just as eager to get the hell out of here, to get back to the hotel…

Just as he gets to the maze opening, she drops her hand from his and he looks back. “What’s wrong?”

Rey looks questionably at him. “What? Nothing, it’s just, you know I don’t want the focus of our success to be around the news that we’re…sleeping together.” She gestures between them with her hand awkwardly.

There’s an unreadable expression on his face and Rey wonders what it could mean, but it disappears in an instant and he nods. “You’re right. I’ll go first, just follow a few steps behind me and I’ll grab us a cab—”

“I’ll drive.” Rey says. “We can sneak into the lot away from the press.”

Ben nods in agreement before he rounds the hedge opening.

Rey counts to seven before she follows him. She makes her way towards the exit only to see that Ben has stopped walking. She slows down and decides she can go ahead and he can follow when a voice calls to her as she passes by.

“Ms. Kenobi.” Rey pauses and looks over to see Luke Skywalker glaring at her. She looks over at Ben quickly and notices the stilted expression on his face. She turns back to Luke and plasters a smile on hers.

“Luke Skywalker, nice to see you again.” She says with as much cheer as she can muster. He doesn’t smile back at her and she suddenly feels like she’s a child about to be scolded for doing something bad.

Was sleeping with Ben that something?

His lips thin into a line. “Congratulations on your quarterfinal victory.” He says, but there’s no enthusiasm behind his praise. It almost sounds like reluctance. “I know Ben, here, has taken an interest in your tournament track.” His eyes slide over to his nephew and she glances over as well.

Ben looks vexed by the comment, his eyes narrow into a glare that could rival his uncles. He returns the look to Luke’s withering stare. Rey is beginning to get the impression that Luke is aware of their…arrangement, and she can tell that he certainly does _not_ approve of it.

Rey blinks. “He’s been supportive, yes.” Rey says. “I’ve actually been able to learn a lot from Ben during this tournament.”

Luke’s eyes slide back over to her. “I’m sure.”

Clearly aware that their secret isn’t one with Luke, Ben says outright, “Well, we’re heading out, so I’ll see ya later.”

Luke’s eyes narrow. “I’ll see you early tomorrow morning. I’ll be knocking on your hotel room door at 7 a.m. sharp. You have training, your semi opponent is going to be a challenge. You better be ready.” He says sternly.

Ben starts to nudge Rey towards the exit. “Yep, sounds good.” He dismisses and he isn’t discreet when his enormous hand wraps around her waist and tugs her with him.

“I mean it, Ben.” Luke says with a tinge of menace. “7 a.m.”

They’re able to sneak out into the parking lot, the staff only glancing at them in curiosity, but otherwise leaving them be.

Rey easily navigates BB-8 in the sea of black sedans. When they approach the car Ben accidently tries to sit in the driver’s side.

“Oi, other side.” Rey teases as she pushes him towards the hood. Ben slides across the hood of the car and Rey absently thinks he looks like he could be James Bond.

And they _almost_ escape without a hitch, except to get out of the parking lot, they have to pass the main entrance. And the paparazzi are still waiting outside for late arrivals or for the end of the event and as Rey pauses at the stop sign one reporter spies them.

“Is that…Ben Solo with Rey Kenobi?” He calls and then everyone’s attention is on them.

“Better get out of here, fast and furious style.” Ben rumbles beside her, as he holds up a hand that completely covers his face.

“Oh bollocks.” Rey swears as she steps on the gas and peels out of the drive, the flash of paparazzi cameras flicker in her rearview mirror.

Once they’re out of the docklands Ben turns to her. “So where should we go?”

Rey glances at him confused. “Uh, back to the hotel?”

Ben waves his hand. “No, I’m thinking we go somewhere else.”

“But you have training tomorrow morning.”

Ben makes a disgruntled sound. “Knowing my uncle, he’ll think of some way to cockblock and I can train in the afternoon. He’s just being a dick.”

Rey thinks for a moment. “My parents have a cottage on Ach-To. It’s an island to the east only about an hour from here.”

“That’s perfect.” Ben says instantly, and his hand reaches over to rest on her thigh. Rey peels off towards the highway, biting her lip to keep from smiling too wide.

-

They drive east to the coast, the setting sun behind their backs. It’s about forty-five minutes to the island of Ach-To. They drive across the narrow bridge that connects the vacation getaway from the mainland and instantly they are surrounded by sand and sea.

Rey breathes in the salty air as the cool breeze flies through the open windows. The beaches are still full of people as they drive along the winding road. Obi-Wan’s cottage is a ways away from the town in a more secluded area. Rey pulls into the gravel patch in front of the small stone cottage.

She puts BB-8 in park and scurries around the planters to find the spare key. Once found, she hardly is given the chance to unlock the door before Ben is all over her. Rey kicks her heels off in the hall as Ben lifts her bridal style. He has to pull his mouth away from hers so he can see where he’s going, Rey leans forward to nibble at his neck and his grip on her waist and under her legs tightens.

“There’s a bedroom down the hall on the first level.” Rey mutters into his neck and she feels the rapidity of his movements as he speeds down the hall. She bounces as he deposits her onto the bed. She scrambles up onto her knees and her hands fly to the zipper at the back of her dress. She’s only able to pull it down halfway. “These bloody things—” She snarls and Ben, who’d only gotten as far as to shrug his jacket off, lunges forward to help her. Once undone, he’s able to yank her dress by the hem down and off her body.

Their hands fly around rapidly in their haste to get each other’s clothes off. Rey gasps as he enters her, the fullness of his cock inside of her is a feeling beyond bliss.

Ben pulls one of her legs up and over his shoulder, instantly stretching her further and Rey moans into his lips. “Fucking you—” Ben grunts as he thrusts into her. “It’s the _best_ thing.” He says as he catches her lips into a biting kiss. “I’m going to fuck you until you’ve come at least five times. One… for each… match… you’ve won.” He puffs out each word after he sends her sliding up the bed with the power of each of his thrusts.

And oh— _fuck_ if his words don’t already have her coming.

Ben rolls his hips against hers. “That’s _one_.” He growls.

Rey thinks she will combust before the night is over.

-

She comes twice more before Ben is spilling inside of her. He promises her those last two before bedtime. Rey isn’t sure if her pussy can handle it.

She shrugged his button-down shirt on and it’s so big it covers her to her knees. She pads into the kitchen and to the mini wine cellar Obi-Wan had installed near the pantry of the house.

The sun has begun to set, the orangey and yellow rays shine into the kitchen. Rey is skimming through the various wine bottles, looking for a year that isn’t valued at a thousand quid, when she hears the front door creak open. She pauses, she could have sworn they locked the door? Even if they hadn’t, _no_ one should be here.

She hears a giggle sound from the front hall. Curious, Rey creeps towards the noise.

“This place is so cute, Poe!” She hears a high-pitched voice of an unknown woman ring through the hall.

Rey rounds the corner. “What are you doing here, Poe?” She accuses.

Poe jumps about a foot in the air before he whirls around and gives her a once over. “Whoa-ho… Rey… what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at Wimbledon?” He seems to process the fact that she’s wearing only in a man’s over-sized dress shirt. “Are we… interrupting something?” He shoots her a devilish look.

Rey pretends to think about his question. “Actually, yeah.” She quips.

Suddenly she feels a presence behind her and she sees Ben dressed in only his slacks.

She looks back at her brother to see Poe staring at them with wide-eyes. “Uh… _hello_.” He says with bewilderment. His thumb then cocks backwards to the girl beside him. “This is Zori Bliss… and you are…?”

Rey rolls her eyes. “You bloody well know who it is Poe.” She grouses. “Now, get out. The cottage is occupied alright?” She holds her hands out in front of her and gestures at him in a shooing motion.

Poe nods, still staring at Ben. “Right… we’ll just go…” He takes Zori’s hand, she looks giddy beyond belief, like someone just told her it was bloody Christmas in July. They walk back down the hall, until Poe pauses and turns around. “One thing,” he holds his finger up. “What do you think the odds are, 40 percent…50 you make it to the final?”

“Ugh, _get out!_ ” Rey shouts as she starts towards the door.

Poe makes holds his hand up in surrender as he and Zori scurry out the door.

Rey makes sure to lock it once it’s shut.

“And that was…?” Ben asks quizzically.

Rey leans against the front door, hand at her temple. “My idiot brother.”

Ben nods in acknowledgement. “Right, he’s a dick.”

Rey won’t argue with him on that. Suddenly her stomach grumbles and she realizes she never ate anything at that blasted event.

Ben smirks at her. “Hungry?”

Rey scrounges around her upstairs bedroom for spare clothes. She ends up being able to find some old t-shirts of Obi-Wan’s that will work and some drawstring shorts of her mums. Finding clothes for Ben prove to be a bit more challenging. There’s one t-shirt of her dads that is a size 2XL and it reads _E-Woke_. The graphic is the face of one of those fuzzy bear creatures clad in sunglasses from that space movie Obi-Wan loves so much. They got it for him as a gag gift on his birthday, except it wasn’t so much of a gag gift because he fucking _loved_ it. Rey thinks it’s hilarious, Ben…not so much. She’s able to scrounge up a pair of basketball shorts that might have been Poe’s. She finds only wellies that fit her and a pair of slides that just _barely_ fit Ben. About an inch of his heel hands off the end, but it will do.

In the end, they look like a right scrappy bunch. Rey gives Ben a baseball cap and sunglasses. She dons a cap herself and she wonders if their attempts at being incognito make it all too obvious…or if people will think they’re a pair of homeless drug addicts.

They walk twenty minutes down the boardwalk to a sandwich shop Rey used to frequent as a teenager. Rey orders two house sarnies and Ben looks at her with a bemused expression. She just rolls her eyes, muttering, “bloody Americans.” She also buys a few pastries and a bag of crisps ‘for later’ before they exit the shop.

They sit on bench by the beach and Rey wolfs hers down in approximately five minutes.

Ben shakes his head laughing. “What?” She asks through a mouthful of food.

The sun officially sets and darkness hangs over them as they walk back to the house. Ben has their bag of provisions in one hand, but as his freehand brushes against her fingers he extends them a bit and twines them together with his own.

The gesture puts, what Rey would assume to be the equivalent to, butterflies in her stomach. She looks out to the sea as the blush rises to her cheeks.

They pass a flight of stairs that lead down to a wharf and she remembers something. She pulls on their twined fingers and Ben follows her down the steps. There is a middle landing before going all way down to the wharf, where a large expanse of greenery was cleared to make a park. Rey spots the old and decrepit tennis court that has clearly been left to rot and she feels a nostalgia fill her.

She lets go of Ben’s hand as she crosses the torn down net and twirls to face him. “This was where Obi-Wan taught me how to play. When he and Ashoka adopted me, I was pretty shy. I think he tried to connect with me in the only way he knew how. I served my first ball from that line,” and she points to the faded outline of the court, “when I was seven.”

Ben places the bag of food on the ground as he walks to the middle of the court.

Rey toes at the crumbled net on the ground. “This was where I told my dad I was going to win Wimbledon one day.” She murmurs. “If only seven-year-old Rey knew where she’d end up.”

Ben puts both hands in his pockets as he looks around the court. “Maybe seven-year-old Rey could predict the future…even if it didn’t happen how she expected.”

Rey cracks a smile. She wraps her arms around herself when a cool breeze wafts across the court. She squeezes her biceps. “Maybe.”

Ben approaches her then, his arms come around her and she can’t help but snuggle into the warmth. “Even though you’re still playing this tournament in disbelief, you have to know by now that you didn’t get here because of luck, or because of a seven-year-old child’s prediction. You earned every win. You’re a fucking force.”

Rey closes her eyes against his chest as she lets his words shroud her. Once again, her heart clenches as she wonders how she can be fucking this whirlwind of a human, but also, quite possibly, be falling in love with him.

She clenches her eyes shut tighter as she wills away those runaway thoughts, those _hopeful_ dreams.

She would be an absolute daft _idiot_ to fall for Ben Solo.

Why did he have to make it so impossible to resist doing so?

She pushes away from him and looks up at the stars shining above them. “I don’t know, Bazine is the third seed, she was runner up at the French Open.” Rey shakes her head. “She’s the toughest opponent yet.”

Ben scoffs a little bit and she gazes up at him questioning. “Bazine plays with way too much arrogance.” Rey raises an eyebrow at him.

“That’s a bit ironic, coming from you.” She teases.

He shrugs. “Her weak spot, is that she can’t stand her opponent having the upper hand, and you’ve definitely got it.”

Rey furrows her brow, confused. “Huh? What sort of upper hand do I have over her?”

Ben seems to ponder his words for a moment. “Well, you have become a crowd favorite. Everyone wants to see you match up against Gwen—and let’s face it, she will make it to the final. The press is going crazy over your 10-year dry spell to sudden semifinal competitor byline, especially because this was the exact same scenario the last time you did this well, and it’s a huge tabloid opportunity. And—” He pauses and his jaw works a bit as he considers his next words. “And… you have me.”

It’s stilting because hearing him say that, and knowing in his own context it means something entirely different, but to her, it has her heart fluttering so fast she can feel it throbbing in her ears.

And yet, in the next moment, the feeling is sobered when she remembers that Ben has apparently slept with Bazine for a whole tournament not too long ago and that feeling of just being a ‘ _thing_ to fuck’, puts Rey in a sour mood.

She steps away from him, feeling estranged from their current situation. He doesn’t agree with it though, and he steps forward when she steps back.

“Ben—”

“It is different.” He says suddenly. “It’s different with you.” His words are soft as they drift between them. “I mean, the sex is fucking—incapacitating sometimes. It’s _transcendent_.” He steps even closer so that his frame towers over her. Rey’s chin is only an inch away from the sunglass-clad furry bear, but her eyes stay rooted to his own. She is hanging on to every bloody word.

“It’s different than it’s ever been with anyone else.” He whispers and she desperately wants to believe him. She pushes all her fears and anxieties away for the hundredth time as she decides that, for tonight, she will believe him.

She presses up on her toes as he bends down to meet her and when their lips graze against one another’s Rey thinks her soul might be trying to intertwine with his own.

Because to her, it is different. It is entirely different because to her…

It’s love.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next stop...angst station

The next morning, Rey gets up to toast the pastries they’d bought the day before. She curates a spread with the only provisions in the fridge that are not expired, the options being some butter and strawberry preserve. There is coffee however, and Rey decides it’ll do.

When she walks back into the bedroom, Ben has turned the telly on and it’s the local news channel. There’s some Wimbledon talk on when she starts paying attention.

“Breakfast, is served, monsieur.” Rey says in a terrible French accent. She places the tray on the bed as Ben takes a hold of her forearm to try and drag her over to him. “Wotcher! The coffee!” Rey exclaims and she’s able to avoid any spills before he’s half on top of her and sticking his tongue down her throat in such a way it has her head spinning.

Ben’s hand starts to creep up underneath her t-shirt. “Oi, enough!” And she tries to wiggle out from under him. “Let me at least have a bloody croissant before round…” Rey pretends to think on it. “What round are we on again?”

Ben literally _growls_ on top of her, but he does relent and allows her to sit up. When she does, she sees Gwen Phasma’s face smiling at her from the television screen.

She groans. “Ugh, enough about Gwen already. If a reporter asks me another bloody question about what is ‘going through my head or ‘how do I feel about matching up’ against that blond giraffe I think I’m going to lose my bloody mind. I think I might commit a crime, is what I’ll do.” Rey flicks a crumb towards the telly for effect.

“Name calling won’t put you in prison.” He chuckles as he bites a huge chunk out of the raspberry scone.

Rey looks over at him. “You are terrible at jokes, you know that?” She leans over to snatch the remote and flicks the channel. The local news broadcast pops up and Rey pauses. “Ben,” she starts and he looks at her. “What is your uncle doing on the telly?”

Ben groans as he turns over to face the screen. “Hmph, probably because he sent a search party out for my missing corpse?”

Rey flicks the button to turn the volume up.

The news camera pans at a silver Mercedes as it creeps down the street. The car is swarmed by people as they shout questions at the car. Luke is visible in the passenger side with the window rolled up.

It doesn’t seem to discourage the press.

Once the car pulls to a stop, the camera pans to the driver getting out first. It’s a hulking man with long hair and a full beard who rounds to the passenger side of the car, pushing some of the crowd away.

Ben scoffs. “I see he called reinforcements.”

Suddenly the shouts of questions from the press start to escalate as Luke’s door opens.

“Will Ben be ready for his semifinal match?”

“Luke, do you think this sort of distraction will disrupt Solo’s game?” A reporter is shouting while trying to get around his bodyguard.

The long-haired man makes some sort of loud roaring sound and a few people do back off. He then opens the door and flanks Luke as he steps out of the car.

Rey nods her head in praise. “Your uncle’s bodyguard is kind of terrifying.”

“Nah, Chewie’s just an overgrown teddy-bear.”

Rey looks over at him. “His nickname is Chewie…does he gnaw people’s nosy arms off or something?”

“Only when threatened.”

Rey turns back to the telly as they watch Luke push through the crowd on the street. She sits up a bit straighter when she recognizes a post box. “Hey wait a minute…that post box looks oddly familiar…” She leans forward a bit and squints at the telly, as if that will help her make it out better.

“Hm, yeah that does kind of look like your neighbor’s house across the street.” Ben mentions.

And it takes them a full five seconds of staring in silence before the realization hits them like a freight train.

“SHIT!”

Rey scrambles off the bed frantically searching for her shorts. Her head shoots over to see Ben jumping into his trousers, his shirt is thrown on in such a way that one end of his collar is completely folded under.

“Shit.” He grouses as he stumbles to get his belt done up.

Rey spots her shorts under the bed and grabs them. “How the bloody hell did they know we were here?” She asks to the room before it hits her. “I’m going to murder Poe…”

She looks at Ben and his hair has fallen in front of his face. It’s an inopportune moment, but she’s momentarily stunned as she watches him flip his head up and his silken locks fall perfectly around his face.

How does he manage to look bloody perfect all the time? The wanker…

“Maybe I can just hide and you can tell Luke I’ve left.”

Rey’s eyes might be bugged out of her head. She considers his enormous size and wonders where on earth he thinks he could fold himself out of sight. “Have you gone mental?” She asks, but she’s jolted into action when she hears the doorbell ring from the front hall. “Oh, bloody cockballs.” She swears.

She smooths her hands down her t-shirt, before she realizes it’s all futile anyway. The doorbell buzzes again as she makes her way to the door. When she gets to the door she pauses and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes.

_Steady on, Kenobi._

Rey opens the door and is met with the stern expression on Luke Skywalker’s face. Chewie is standing behind him but facing outwards. The silver Mercedes glints menacingly in front of the cottage on the road. Luckily the press had stayed on by the car as they aren’t able to step on private property. They would still be able to get a shot of her however, if they just zoomed their camera juuust a bit.

“Mr. Skywalker.” Rey says with a trepid smile. “It’s so good to—” She’s cut off when Luke walks into the house without a word. “Yes, do come in.” Rey says to his back.

She follows behind him as he looks around the kitchen and sitting area. “Where’s Ben?” He asks without preamble.

Rey twists her fingers around each other. “He’s…gone, he left early this morning.”

Luke looks at her then with such a withering stare of disbelief Rey feels her throat run dry.

Blimey, this man is quite intimidating considering his more…compact size. She wonders distractedly where Ben got his giant-esqe genetics from.

“He missed his practice session this morning, so I doubt that.” Luke grumbles around the room and then he’s quiet. She thinks he might be trying to listen for any faraway sounds. Rey thinks he looks like one of those characters in those horror films who listens for the creaking of floorboards before he gets trounced on by an evil spirit.

Wouldn’t be a horrible thing…

He rounds on her then and Rey suddenly feels like the prey in said horror film. She’s expecting him to yell more biting things at her, possibly tear the cottage apart with the help of his beastly friend, but Luke sighs deeply instead.

He looks tired. His aura emitting waves of disappointment.

“I know you’ve only known Ben for a few days…” He trails off and he shakes his head, as though he is rethinking his words. “I understand this tournament is different for you, that you’re at the end of it, but Ben…Ben’s just started. He’s been training for these majors since he could hold a racket. And he’s good.” Luke pauses and there’s an amused expression on his face as he says the word ‘good’. “He’s extraordinary actually, but I can tell this ‘thing’ he has with you is damaging his focus. I’m afraid he’s lost sight of what his end goal is here.”

Rey’s lips set into a line as she considers his words. “You’re right. I have only known him from the span of this tournament. But, if you think that Ben’s heart is no longer in it because he’s been seeing me—well, I think you’re wrong.” She knows this above all else. Ben even told her so. There is nothing else he loves more than winning.

“He’s never missed a practice before.” Luke shakes his head. “And it’s not like his usual _flings_ in the past have come in the way of that.”

Rey feels her blood run cold. The way he refers to her as a fling is a stab right through the heart. Even if she knows it’s true, the blow still hurts.

“And now, with all of this ridiculous publicity, it’s just another added distraction to a growing list.”

Rey shakes her head in agreement. This conversation is so out of her element, and without Finn, she’s shit at knowing how to handle it. “Believe me, I am not thrilled by the attention either.”

“Aren’t you though?” Luke cuts in, and it’s such a biting comment that it throws Rey off. Her mouth hangs open in disbelief.

“I beg your pardon—”

Luke doesn’t let her finish. “I know all about your past career…misses.” Luke waves his hand. “And I understand that you would want to end your run at a high, and you’ve already done that. I think you’ve dragged Ben into your affairs for long enough.”

Rey is shocked, to say the least. She’s beyond offended that this utter and absolute _arsehole_ would suggest she would use Ben in this way.

She’s cut off from saying anything she might regret when Ben rounds the corner from the hall. “That’s enough Luke.” He says, but there’s something in his voice, and when Rey looks over at him with wide eyes, she’s struck by the defeat she sees there.

“Oh, Ben…you’re still here…” She tries for feigned surprise and it falls on deaf ears.

Ben looks at his uncle. “I still want to win Wimbledon.” He says factually. “My situation with Rey is a mutual one, so you can stop trying to spin the narrative.”

Even though Rey knows he’s defending her, she doesn’t feel placated by it, not in the least. The word _situation_ bubbles up in her thoughts and her proverbial rose-tinted glasses shatter to pieces. The pieces fall to ground and disintegrate with little pops. The words ‘it’s different with you’ and ‘you have me’ fizzle into nothingness.

Luke stares at his nephew. “Are you ready to be serious again?”

Ben nods stiffly. “Then it’s time to go.” Luke says as he puts his hands on his hips, pushing the tails of his jacket blazer back and he begins to walk towards the door.

Rey looks over at Ben, tries to implore him with her eyes. “Ben—”

“I’m sorry, Rey.” He says and he looks resigned. He won’t look her in the eye. “I shouldn’t have made this into a spectacle by having us come out here. Luke’s right, I do need to get my focus back. I’ll see you back in London alright?”

Rey would absolutely argue that no, that’s not alright. She thinks about last night and wonders if she’d been in some sort of hazy, fever dream when they stood on that court by the sea.

_It’s different than it’s ever been with anyone else._

She is once again reminded that all of this, everything they had, is all incumbent upon their success in the tournament. That no, they are not living in this enchanting romantic tale where, through it all, they would ultimately find themselves irrevocably in love.

No, they were just two tennis pros who shagged out their stress before, during, and after every match. That is what Ben thought all this was.

It is what he wants this all to be.

And when she looks up at him and sees the stoic expression on his face, she tries to will away the stuttering in her heart.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll see you.” She says softly.

She watches as he nods almost imperceptibly, his head still turned slightly to the side. He’s holding his suit jacket in his hands and he goes through the motions of draping it over his forearm.

He only stands a few feet from her, but it feels like miles.

Ben turns then to follow his uncle out.

And Rey knows, she really does, she knows better than to feel _disappointed_ that he doesn’t walk up to her, that he doesn’t kiss her—or hell, even bloody look back at her.

It’s stupid, it’s all really, truly stupid.

She stands there a bit more after she hears the front door click shut.

She inhales shuddering breaths in the silence.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chugga-chugga-choo…🥴

Rey pulls up to the Starkiller Hotel and she slides her shades on as the camera’s start to flash. Finn runs over with the valet to her car door right before a bunch of reporters and photographers swarm them.

“It’s alright babes.” He says as she gets out of the car. She is still clad in a ratty t-shirt and her mum’s drawstring shorts from the 90’s. The valet hops in and tries to clear the area to drive BB-8 away from the front entrance. He beeps a few times, but the reporters are relentless.

“Rey! How’s Ben?”

“Rey, are you prepared for your semifinal match?”

“How long have you been seeing Ben Solo?”

“Is it true that he always has a ‘girl of the major’? Care to comment on that?”

“Where’s Ben at? We notice he’s no longer at the Starkiller!”

That last one makes her ears perk up. Finn is able to shove some reporters out of the way so that they can enter the lobby.

It’s not until they’re in the safety of her hotel room that Rey asks, “Ben’s not at the hotel?”

Finn looks at her and his mouth opens and then closes, pondering. “He didn’t tell you? I heard from the Underground that Luke set them up at a townhouse over in Kensington.”

Rey just nods as she goes to the dresser to find different clothes to change into.

“You alright, Peanut?” Finn asks from behind her.

It’s such a loaded question and Rey has already mentally torn herself apart over it. Of course she’s alright. She has a semifinal match to worry about.

She throws some training clothes on the bed. “Yes, I’m fine. Rose offered to work some drills with me today to help me prepare for tomorrow. So, bugger off please.”

Finn doesn’t prod further, and Rey is grateful for it.

“Uh, actually these are for you.” Finn points to two large shopping bags in the corner of her room. The logo Lacoste, emblazoned on them. “You’re officially sponsored now babes. So, you’ll have to be seen in only Lacoste for the rest of the tourney.” He goes over to them and fishes out a white and pleated garment out of the bag. “Look how cute!”

As she’s walking through the lobby to meet Rose, the woman at the concierge calls out to her.

“Oh, Miss Kenobi!” It’s the same woman who’d iced her when she first checked in. However, as Rey walks towards her, the woman’s demeanor is considerably different from their last interaction. The concierge smiles at her when she approaches. “Miss Kenobi, there was a message left for you.” She hands her an envelope.

Rey just nods, feeling a bit miffed by the woman’s obvious arse-licking. She takes the note from her and begrudgingly mumbles a ‘thanks’.

“Good luck tomorrow, we’ll all be cheering you on!” The woman calls behind her.

-

Rey doesn’t read the note until she and Rose are sitting in the changing room. There’s no actual message on the card, just an address scribbled on it and the words _back window_. Rey feels an odd sensation to rip the card up and tell Ben Solo he can go fuck himself.

But the weaker, more delusional part of her, squirms in anticipation at the thought that he does still want to see her.

_He only wants to dump his load in your desperate lady bits, you daft idiot._

Rey does have the decency to be annoyed with her body for getting tingly at the thought of it.

“So, I did overhear some catty gossip between Bazine and her manager. She’s totally rattled by you.” Rose pips from beside her.

Rey pulls her new practice shirt over her head. “Really?”

Rose looks devious. “Oh yeah, that bitch clearly loves attention and she’s getting none of it. She’s thoroughly been sidelined by your success and the way the media is going totally gaga over you.” Rose leans in and says in a quieter tone. “I think it’s even worse for her because your thing with Ben has been publicized too. You have a fan club you know.”

“What?” Rey looks at her friend in disbelief.

Roes nods emphatically. “Oh yeah, they’re calling themselves the ‘Knights of Ren’ online. That’s your name Rey and Ben put together—”

“Yeah, I got it.” Rey snaps. She doesn’t mean to be so icy, but she keeps thinking back to how Ben referred to them as a _situation_ and it puts her in a mood.

“Everything okay with you guys?” Rose asks cautiously. “I did read about your romantic tryst by the sea on my newsfeed this morning.”

Rey shakes her head. “It wasn’t a romantic tryst. It was actually a mistake, if anything. We would still be under the radar if I hadn’t been stupid enough to take him there…”

“Maybe.” Rose shrugs. “But everyone knows now. You guys are like the king and queen of Wimbledon—hence your fan club name. You know tennis is a spectator sport, right? It’s all about the spectators.”

Rey grumbles internally. It was her least favorite thing about the bloody sport.

“I’d rather not think about spectators. All I care about is the game.”

Rose looks at her a little sympathetically. “Honey, the crowd can make or break a match. Right now, you’ve got them on your side, and I know you’ll feel the difference. Don’t be afraid of it. Embrace it.” She says dramatically as she lifts her hand up and brings it slowly down into a fist.

When they train, Rey can hardly focus. All she can think about is Ben and his blasted note. He was supposed to be a good distraction, not an impeding one.

She thinks about why her thoughts about _them_ has her all tied in knots. There is all this inside turmoil bubbling up and making her feel insane. When Ben left the cottage that morning, she felt the absence. Her anxieties and her insecurities fully wrapped around the ghost he left there with her.

Because understanding and accepting their agreement when they first made it, no longer feels the same. Their situation wasn’t nothing anymore, not to her. And she needs him to _understand_ that.

He needs to know that fucking around isn’t an option for her anymore. She thinks about that stupid note that’s sitting in her bag. The invitation to keep doing what they’ve been doing.

But Rey no longer wants to just play by his rules. It’s driving her up the bloody wall.

It’s time that she bends those rules a bit. It’s time to even the playing field in her favor.

-

After much inner turmoil, Rey bribes the valet to call a taxi down to the hotel car park. She’s able to sneak out of Starkiller, in the dead of night, without so much as a single camera flash.

When she arrives at the address, all the lights in the house are off. Rey stalks the side of the house and she spots the ladder-like structure that leads to the second-floor balcony. It’s actually quite sturdy looking and has easy handholds to climb up to where she assumes is his open window.

“The fucking wanker.” Rey mutters as she stares up at it. She only briefly thinks about her idiocy as she starts climbing. “Going to break my fucking neck for a bloody shag.” She mutters.

She hops through the window with the finesse of a cat, if she were to describe it. When she looks over to the bed, she sees Ben’s heaping form snoozing soundly.

Rey toes off her shoes before she crawls onto the bed and her weight stirs him. His head looks up briefly before it falls back down. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” He mumbles sleepily.

Rey wants to smack him. “You know we have these things called telephones, don’t you? Would have done well to leave one on your bloody note. Or, better yet, get a mobile with an international plan!” She grumbles and then yelps as his hand wraps around her arm and pulls her into him.

“Shh.” He says against her temple and his lips begin to nibble around her face. His hands begin to wander and Rey shivers under the warmth.

_You have something you need to say, you half-wit._

She pushes away from his embrace. However, she only manages to create a few inches of space between them.

“Wait.” She says and she tries to find his eyes in the dark. “I need to talk to you.”

He’s quiet beside her, but his arms remain wrapped around her torso keeping her close.

She steels herself, before she begins to lose her nerve. “I know this is casual.” She starts, “but, I’m still a bloody person, and being considered as a _situation_ was not pleasant for me.”

“I know you’re a person.” He says simply and his head ducks down to gently suck on her neck.

_Yeah, we’ll I’m a stupid person that’s fallen for you. It’s a big bloody difference._

Rey’s mind blanks. Wasn’t she supposed to tell him something else?

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks against her neck and she feels his erection as it presses against her through the sheets. 

“Mmph, okay I just—” She’s cut off when his hand pushes down into her leggings and cups her center. His middle finger dips inside of her and, like a reset button, all thoughts have been pushed away from her.

Ben groans against her. “You’re always so wet for me.” His hand slips out of her pants and he starts to push them down past her arse. Rey’s knees lift on their own accord so that she can easily pull them off.

Ben is already shirtless, wearing just briefs to bed and his cock strains against them. His hands come up to pull her shirt off and he throws it to the floor. He unhooks her bra with adept fingers and his hands come up to massage her breasts.

“And your tits…” he sighs, “your nipples are always so hard. Perfect for me to suck on.” He says as his head ducks lower and he pulls one of her tits into his mouth. Rey moans as her chest presses against his face.

Bloody hell, Ben really is a connoisseur for knowing her body and how to turn her into a muddled mess.

Rey’s hand reaches down to stroke his cock inside his underwear and he thrusts his hips against her.

He growls into her chest. “I wish I could make you scream when you fall apart on my cock, but it’ll be just as hot watching you try to keep that filthy mouth of yours shut.”

Rey shivers against him. Her grip on him tightens.

“Fuck.” He gasps and he rolls them around so that he’s on top of her and encased between her legs. One hand comes down to hastily rip off his briefs. He rests on his forearms and his cock hangs heavy between them on her belly. Her legs fall open and he presses down on her. “You’re so fucking sexy like this, laid out beneath me, waiting for my cock to fill your pretty little pussy.” His words grate over her, and she feels them sink into her skin, making her feel heavy, sedated.

When he enters her in one quick trust his name falls off her lips. “Ben.” She whispers with her own gasp.

His arms weave around her again, his left arm snakes beneath her shoulder as his hand encompasses the back of her head while his right arm scoops beneath her arse, lifting her up slightly so that he can thrust up into her.

The position and the way he’s wrapped around her turns their coupling into a slower and more sensual movement. Rey would compare the motion to that of an undulating wave of an incoming tempest. With every swell of their bodies she feels Ben’s pelvis press decisively against her clit. Her orgasm builds with the steady rhythm.

“You’re more than just a person to me.” He says then and it surprises her as his words sink in.

_Don’t say that_. The thought sprouts up in her mind, but her lips refuse to say it out loud.

“You drive me fucking insane.” He goes on, the words barely loud enough to hear if his mouth wasn’t pressed so tightly against her ear. His breath is hot and it causes sparks to shoot down her body from the point of contact. It makes her toes curl.

Her body betrays her as her cunt clenches against him in response to his words, to his lips, to all of it.

“But when I fuck you, when I come deep inside of you, I feel like the most powerful fucking person in the world.” He sounds drugged as he keeps thrusting into her, his momentum stuttering. “I feel like I can do anything because I know—after each match—after I fucking destroy everyone—I know that I’ll have your cunt there waiting for me, ready to join me in fucking victory.”

If Ben Solo could write a love letter, Rey thinks that might have been it.

She feels a lone tear escape her and fall across her cheek before it drips onto the sheets beneath her.

Because despite the fact that his words have her cunt throbbing uncontrollably around him, despite the fact that she has to push her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out, despite all of that—she feels even more confused by what it all means.

A wave of mental and physical exhaustion hits her as she comes down from her orgasm.

Ben thrusts sloppily against her and he groans deep in his chest as he comes. His face is pressed against the mattress in the space between her ear and shoulder as he finishes filling her with two stuttering thrusts.

His come leaks out of her as he pulls out, and he falls to the bed beside her.

She lets him pull her against him. Her back is flush against his chest and she feels him nuzzle his face against the side of her neck.

When she closes her eyes in exhaustion, to let the sleep take her, a few more tears escape and fall down her cheek before disappearing into the mattress.

-

Rey wakes up and looks at the clock on the bedside. It’s 5 a.m. and the light from the rising sun has begun to steam through the window.

She considers sneaking out, but then she remembers last night, she remembers Ben’s words.

She can’t let him fuck with her emotions anymore.

Rey sits up in the bed and she throws her legs over the edge as she looks around for her discarded clothes.

Ben grumbles beside her as he rouses. “You can stay.” He says and his hand curls around her hip.

It hits her then, the force of their entire situation, the emotions she’d been keeping inside, holding them in behind a dam that’s started to crack ever since he told her it was _different_.

Her dam breaks.

“No, I can’t.” She says and she stands from the bed. The warmth of his fingers falls away from her.

When she turns to look at him, he’s propped up on his forearms, a look of confusion has the audacity to grace his face.

“What was that last night?” She whispers, trying to keep her voice down in the otherwise silent house.

He doesn’t answer her, or she doesn’t give him the chance to.

“You can’t say bloody idiotic things to me, like ‘this is different’, when clearly it isn’t. You can’t tell me that I’m _more_. Alright, I’m—I don’t work that way. Because I’m—I’m this bloody close to falling for it alright?” She holds her fingers together for emphasis. The confession falls from her lips like a bird with a broken wing. Her voice wavers but the decibel level remains. “We both know it’s best to remember that all this is, is fucking. And don’t tell me how bloody great, or amazing, or brilliant I am. Those are things you say to someone you care about, and that’s not what this is.” She motions between them as she allows her legs to walk her backwards towards the door. “That’s not what we are.”

He still remains quiet. His eyes follow her legs until she stops at the door.

She waits for him to say something, _anything._ When he doesn’t, she inhales a shaky breath. “Okay well, thank you for the shag and good luck today.” She flicks her thumb towards the door. “Since it’s five in the morning, I’m sneaking out the front door.”

She really is this close to breaking her resolve, to asking him if maybe she’s wrong, if maybe this is something more. But he just looks at her expressionless and so, before she can openly fall apart, she pulls at the door and walks out.

Rey has never tried to run from a place as quietly, or quickly in her entire life.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of this story – they will have their semifinal matches on the same day – creative license 😬. Also, the tennis prose of the story is picking up - since this is a tennis au haha - but I hope it can still be entertaining...
> 
> You have arrived to Angst Station.

It’s 11:30 a.m. and Rey is standing in the hall that leads out to Centre Court. This would be her second time playing here. The last time she was here it was almost over a decade ago.

She takes a steadying breath. She’s supposed to have a pre-match interview. Her hand grips the strap of her tennis bag a bit tighter as Tallie Lintra approaches her.

Tallie had interviewed her after her quarterfinal match. She was kind and not invasive, and Rey felt her nerves settle a bit.

“Hi Rey, are you ready?” Tallie asks gently as she holds the microphone out. She motions to the cameraman behind her.

Rey nods and takes a steadying breath.

The cameraman cues Tallie and her hand goes to the earpiece in her ear. “Thank you, John,” she says before she turns to Rey. “Rey, everyone is really excited to see you in this semifinal match. It’s extra special for us Brits to see you fighting for that final match. As I think we can all imagine, there is a lot of pressure going into this match, how are you handling that pressure?”

_With sex._ Her brain supplies and Rey bites her cheek.

“There is a lot of pressure.” She nods. “I’m just staying focused, thinking about my game. I had a good practice yesterday…” _Liar._ “and I’m just really trying to push that outside pressure out, and enjoy it—enjoy the crowd, all of it…yeah.”

“Does it feel different than it did ten years ago? Is there any nostalgia going through your head during this momentous return to Centre Court?”

“There’s certainly some nerves.” Rey assents. “I’m trying not to think about it so much as comeback, more like a pretty brilliant sendoff.”

Tallie smiles at her then. “Well, we wish you the best of luck.”

“Thank you.” Rey is then ushered forward to enter Centre Court.

The sun shines through the open door, and Rey pauses before she steps into the light. She hears other footsteps behind her and when she turns, she met with a glare from Bazine Netal.

“You stand no chance against me.” She sneers and she looks haughtily at her.

And Rey, despite the fact that she left things with Ben so up in the air this morning, despite the fact that she is pretty sure their fling is about to come to an end, she allows herself a moment to play this twisted game of _sportsmanship_.

Her mouth turns into a little smirk as she says, “Ben seems to think I do.”

The superior look Bazine had been sporting drops immediately.

Rey turns back around and lets herself smile in satisfaction.

_Take that, bitch._

One of the officials at the door motions for them to enter and Rey holds her head high as she walks through the door and into the sun.

-

_Karma is a bloody bitch._

Rey grunts as she tries to catch her breath after missing the killer backhand Bazine shot across the court.

_That’ll teach you to try and be petty, Kenobi._

She’s fighting for this third set, because it’s this or nothing. But Bazine does have a bloody killer backhand and she’s sending her shots all over the court. Rey is already feeling a bit winded.

The ball girl she had on her first day is there holding out her towel. Rey oddly feels comforted by her presence.

She wipes the sweat from her face and her arms before handing the towel over to the girl with a wink.

It’s 5-4 and Bazine is one point away from evening the score and then this could go on into another game. And Rey is _so close_ and her brain just won’t _shut up_.

_C’mon Rey, don’t let her fucking get past you. It’s just a few more points._

Bazine serves and Rey grunts as she returns. They rally back and forth. Bazine keeps trying to work the ball into a spin. Rey’s eyes trail her own ball as she sends a silent prayer out each time her ball looks like it’s about to bounce out. The linesman never calls it and she thinks her prayers must be working.

With a ferocious snarl Bazine slams the ball and it’s too much. It bounces out.

The crowd cheers and Rey looks up to the sky in relief.

“30-40.” The umpire’s melodic voice wafts through the mic.

Rey immediately gets down in her knees as she watches Bazine bounce her ball a bit more forcefully.

When she serves, Rey is quick with the return. Bazine hits the ball back and it hits the net.

“Deuce.”

Bazine screams and Rey thinks it’s an expletive, but she can’t hear over the roar of the crowd.

_Get the fucking breakpoint, Kenobi. It’s just two points and you’re going to the bloody fucking final._

“Quiet please.” The umpire intones as the crowd continues to cheer.

Rey can feel the sweat running down her back. She thinks briefly about what Rose had said about the crowd. It’s all about the spectators.

The silence falls on the court as Bazine sets up her serve. Rey breathes in through her nose.

Bazine grunts as her serve flies over the net. Rey returns and the tennis gods truly are smiling down on her because it hits the net…

And then flies up.

Rey runs up to prepare as she watches Bazine sprint to the net, but she doesn’t get there in time.

There’s a roar rushing through her ears as she watches the ball bounce once, twice.

“Advantage, Kenobi.”

The crowd goes wild. She watches as Bazine turns towards her coach and manager in her box and hold her hands out in frustration.

_She can’t stand her opponent having the upper hand, and you’ve definitely got it._

Every nerve in Rey’s body is buzzing in energy. She feels as if her mind has floated away from her body, relinquishing the reins.

_Match point._

Bazine serves and it’s a fault. Rey releases the breath she’d been holding.

The next serve makes it over and Rey returns it with a backhand. Bazine seems to have found her focus because she’s right on it when she returns.

They rally back and forth and it feels like the point is never ending. Rey grunts as she slices the ball for what feels like the eleventh time.

Would this point ever end?

Bazine seems to think the same, because she goes for a short return.

_Fuck-all_. Rey runs to the net and slams it. The ball bounces off the grass and flies past Bazine’s racket.

“Match, Kenobi.”

It’s the first match of the tournament where Rey falls to the ground right on her arse.

She lets herself fall back as she looks up into the sun.

She can hear the cheers from the crowd, but they sound far away.

_You did it._

_You bloody fucking did it._

“Bloody hell.” She whispers. She stands up then as she sees Bazine slowly walk up to the net, her face is frowning down at her racket.

Bollocks, they have to shake hands.

Rey holds her hand out, but she doesn’t care in the least when Bazine barely grazes it before she turns to the umpire.

After she shakes the umpire’s hand, Rey turns back around to the stands.

The smile grows exponentially wider as she looks at her surroundings. The audience is on their feet and they’re screaming out of their minds. She hears her name buzz through the applause.

“Holy, fucking shit.” She breathes and she raises her arm to wave to the crowd. The noise around her amplifies.

She’s going to be in the fucking Wimbledon final.

-

It feels like hours once she’s done with the press conference and all the interviews.

Finn walks down the hall with her as they go out into the lobby. Rose is waiting there for her bouncing with excitement.

“Eep! My tennis star!” Rose exclaims as she embraces her. “You did so good bebe! Gosh, Bazine looked like she had a stick up her ass the entire match!”

“Shh.” Rey hushes. “Be nice.” Even though she agrees, the bitch deserved it. “Hey, what time is it?” Ben’s match was after hers, in the whirlwind of commotion she hadn’t been able to watch. Maybe it was still going on.

Rose’s smile falters and her eyes catch on something behind her. Rey follows her gaze and looks up at the television screen.

It’s a broadcast of Ben’s semifinal match. The headline reads _Hothead Solo Semifinal Defeat_ and it shows Ben on the screen beating his racket to the ground several times until it’s nothing more than splinters and twisted wire.

“Shit.” Rey whispers.

Rose looks at her. “It was…pretty messy. They were saying it’s the worst they’ve ever seen him play. I wonder what happened.”

Rey feels her heart stutter in her chest.

She thinks she might have an idea…

-

She waits for him to call. She doesn’t know why she still thinks he will, because after five hours and still nothing she wonders if she had been right all along.

All they had was subjective around the tournament and now he was out of it. Now it was over.

She hardly sleeps that night, and when she does, she dreams about Ben.

_Ben nibbles at the shell of her ear and it has her squirming._

_“Ugh, Ben, stop!” She pleads as she tries to wriggle out of his grasp._

_He rolls over on top of her then and he’s everywhere._

_Rey looks up at him and at the strands of hair that fall in front of his face. She raises her hand to push them back, but it’s futile. Her eyes brush closed as his nose lowers to nuzzle against her cheek. His lips brush over hers._

_“I’m sorry about your match.” She whispers against him._

_Ben shakes his head against her before his mouth opens and he lightly bites down at her jaw, his lips close against her skin and he sucks at her softly._

_“There will be other Wimbledon’s.” He says factually. “Though, this one will probably be my favorite.”_

_She sighs as she feels his hands run down her body before squeezing her hips gently._

_Rey thinks she knows, but she needs to hear him say it._

_“What makes this Wimbledon better than the rest? You didn’t win.”_

_He smirks down at her. His eyes twinkling down at her like stars. “Didn’t I?”_

The next morning when she wakes, she feels itchy all over, unsettled.

By lunch she still hasn’t heard from him.

She had thought, even if they were over, that he would at least tell her about it. Besides, there is a part of her just _wants_ to see him, wants to know how he’s faring. Thinking back to how she left things the morning of their semifinal matches, she doesn’t think there is a chance her words would affect him in any way. It could not have impacted his terrible match.

Right?

She sneaks out of the hotel once again and hops in a taxi. When she gets out in front of the townhome in Kensington, she can hear a loud clapping sound coming from behind the house.

Rey walks along the side of the brownstone to the back, and there’s Ben, with an axe, splitting wood like a bloody logger. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and black joggers. Rey can’t help but think what a shame it is that he isn’t clad in plaid...

He senses her presence and looks over, but when he catches sight of her, he abruptly turns back around.

“Have you come here to get your pre-match fuck from me?” He says as he lifts a fresh log and places it upright. “Not sure if I’ll be able to _perform_ today, sorry.” He says coldly.

His words sting at her as she ingests them.

“I came to see how you were, when I didn’t hear from you—”

Ben laughs hollowly. “I’m doing fucking fantastic.” He says sarcastically before lifting the axe and bringing it straight down onto the log, splitting it clean in two.

If he wasn’t being a complete asshole right now, Rey might have found this scenario extremely arousing.

“Is chopping wood a hobby of yours?” Rey asks, “same with turning tennis rackets into kindling?”

She doesn’t know why she wants a reaction from him, but she does and it isn’t good.

Ben whirls around then. “What are you doing here Rey?” His voice holds a tone of malice she’s never heard from him before. The sort of anger that radiates off of him when something doesn’t go his way on the court is one thing. This is something else. “You can’t possibly be here because you _care_. You made that very clear yesterday. Are you here to rub your fucking win in my face or something?” He reaches for another log.

Rey blanches. The confusion visible on her face. “I’m not—Our situation—”

“Yeah, our fucking situation. You were the one to call me out on that, because it wasn’t working out for how _you_ wanted it to. Then you start saying shit like you were falling for me, and that _I’m_ leading you on. Okay, we aren’t serious, but I’m not allowed to think of you as a person? I’m supposed to treat you like some kind of slut that I use whenever I want? What kind of messed up bullshit is that?” He brings the axe down with so much force the wood explodes away on impact.

Rey shakes her head. “Treating me like a person and telling me there’s something special between us—it’s bloody different! It felt like I was going through a fucking mental wash cycle every five minutes!” She yells. “You—it was just sex to you, so I tried to keep it separate. But you can’t act like you have feelings for me when in reality you don’t.”

Ben raises both arms and shrugs. “It’s just supposed to be fun Rey, it’s not supposed to turn into some melodrama…”

She stares at him, watches as his immaturity truly shines through. “Melodrama? I was falling in love with you.” Her voice cracks with a desperation to make him _understand_.

Ben scoffs and he looks at her like he’s annoyed by it, annoyed by _her_. “Love, huh? I don’t think you understand what love is. You were just as high off of it as I was.”

Now she really does need an explanation. “High off of what?” She asks exasperatedly.

“Fucking winning Rey, winning. You fucking drag me into a stairwell to fuck, you come to my room every night—to fuck. Every time you win a match, we fuck. It wasn’t me you loved. But I’m the same way. I _love_ winning more than anything else. You don’t love _me._ You just loved what I could give you. You loved that I could make you come. It’s the same for me though. It’s the best thing about you.” He spits the words, bristling in anger. There’s a wild look in his eyes, it almost looks like hurt, but it’s shielded by so much vehemence, it can’t possibly be that.

His words bite into her skin, hard enough to draw blood. It feels like a slap to the face.

“Who are you?” Rey whispers as she blinks tears away. “I didn’t want this.” She says as she motions to the destruction between them, to their twisted miscommunication. When she looks up at him his eyes are piercing.

“Yeah well, I didn’t either.” Rey thinks he misinterpreted her words. “I wanted to fucking win Wimbledon.” He snarls. “That’s all I wanted.” His dark eyes set on her in such vitriolic hatred that it makes her want to shrink away, to run.

Rey draws in a shaking breath. “You don’t mean that.”

He laughs humorlessly. “No, I do.” And then his lips twist into a sneer and he looks truly villainous. “I do what I need to do to win. I fuck what I want. I get what I want. And now it’s over, so I’m not sure what you’re still doing here.”

A tear runs down Rey’s cheek. He feels like a stranger to her, but then again, it’s not like she really knew him—the real him. Maybe _this_ is it.

“It’s only fair right?” He says vindictively. “You say shit to throw me off my game, I’m just telling you how it is.”

Rey blinks back the tears. “I shouldn’t have come here. This was a mistake.” She whispers and she turns to leave. She makes it a few steps until he calls out to her.

“Hey, good luck tomorrow!” He shouts to her back. The rancor clear in his voice.

Rey’s breath catches as she stumbles across the stone path.

Her heart a trampled mess trailing in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😔 I mean, Ben isn’t used to losing…and we all know how he can get a little irrational sometimes <_<


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upped chapter count to add this little Obi-Wise father-daughter gem and an epilogue 🥰

Rey doesn’t expect the surprise that awaits her when she returns to the hotel that afternoon.

“Surprise Rey! I got the whole family tickets for the players box!” Finn exclaims excitedly as she opens the door to her room.

She doesn’t expect to burst into tears the second she hears the door close behind her.

She doesn’t pay attention to Finn and Ashoka as their concern fills the room. It isn’t until she feels her father’s hand rest on her shoulder that she is able to stop shaking.

It takes her a moment to realize it’s just them now.

“Rey, what’s wrong?” His voice floats above her and the comfort of his palm slowly loosens the tightness in her muscles. “Is it about tomorrow?”

Her shoulders shudder as she tries to catch her breath and steady her heart. She nods her head yes as her mouth says, “no…”

Obi-Wan nudges her to sit on the bed and he sits beside her. He waits patiently as she works on getting her emotions in control. Rey is reminded of all those times as a child, when the stress of her matches would overwhelm her thru to her teenage years. She remembers her father sitting beside her, calmly, uncritically while allowing her the space to open up.

Except the reasons for her breakdown have nothing to do with tennis. Their usual tactics for overcoming her usual demons won’t help this time.

“I-I don’t know what to do to stop feeling like this.” She debates hedging around what the ‘this is she’s feeling. But Rey already knows that Obi-Wan knows her better than that.

Obi-Wan hums softly beside her. “Can you try to describe what it is you are feeling?”

Rey shuts her eyes tightly. “I fucked up, dad.”

_Everything is a fucking mess._

“Well, you can’t have done anything too terrible. You’re playing in the final tomorrow, after all.” He says lightly.

Rey shakes her head. “No, you’ve seen I’m sure. It’s a right fucking train wreck. I had to go and make it not about the sport…I had to make it into a… _melodrama_.” She says bitterly as she echoes Ben’s words.

“Hmm, what happened?” He asks gravely.

“Everyone just thinks that they know me, just because I’m in the spotlight.” Rey’s bottom lip trembles as she considers something. “But they don’t know me. They only think they know from what they see in my matches. They only see who I was ten years ago—always asking me what’s going through my fucking head, how it feels to fight for redemption now. It’s not—it’s just so bloody exhausting…” A fresh wave of emotion crashes through her and she tries to sniffle it back.

Obi-Wan listens silently.

“And then there was—there was Ben…and he _saw_ me. Even though he’s still _so_ young and no one’s treating him like he has one foot in the bloody grave. It didn’t matter, I finally felt like there was someone there with me who just _got_ it.” Rey shakes her head dismissively. “I let myself rely on it too much.”

Her face puckers up into a pained expression and she absently tries to brush the wetness away from her face with the back of her hand.

She lets out a sob when Obi-Wan’s hand comes into view and he’s holding out his handkerchief. “Thanks.” She mumbles as she presses the cloth against her face.

She hears Obi-Wan exhale softly beside her. “I’m not sure how much this has to do with…the situation at hand…” He trails off, pondering his next words. “But as I’ve watched your matches this time around…something _is_ different. There is a fire in you when you play that I haven’t seen in a long time.” There is an edge of encouragement in his tone and it makes Rey look over at him.

When she looks into her father’s eyes, they twinkle at her in wonderment. “You can choose to believe that a boy had something to do with this, but I don’t entirely agree.” A small smile tugs at the edge of his lips. “Rey, ever since you were a little girl, ever since I met you, there was this warrior in you that was impossible to overlook. Your conviction to fight for what you wanted, to earn these achievements that you whole-heartedly deserved, it was truly astounding to witness—and as your father, the joy of watching you succeed was incomparable. And I think—” He pauses as he rests his hand on her knee.

“—I think Ben sees that too. Even though things are a little…unbalanced right now. And maybe it helped, to hear it from someone else, to be _reminded_ of your power. When I watch you on the court, I see that hope that used to shine through your eyes when you went to Wimbledon that very first time. You play like you believe in yourself again. You fight like you think anything is possible.”

Rey feels the tears flow freely down her face as she listens to her father’s words.

“I told him he was a liar for saying those things to me.” Rey whispered. “I don’t think I wanted to believe them because I thought they were only said in consolation.”

“The greatest challenge we face, as athletes, is our fear in believing in ourselves.” Obi-Wan intones. “It’s especially difficult when we are surrounded by those who wish to live through us, to achieve that glory when they cannot do it for themselves. We all bear that pressure as warriors.”

Rey can’t help the quirk of her lips. “Yes, Master Jedi.” She jokes with watery eyes. It’s a jibe she used to poke at him often when he used to train her.

Obi-Wan smiles at her as he taps her leg. “Rey, I don’t know what happened between you and Ben, and you don’t have to go into detail, but I hope you know that you have accomplished what many can only dream of— _you,_ on your own. It doesn’t matter if you have a major under your belt, all that matters, is that you know you are exceptional, that you know you did your best and fought till the end—and I’m not saying that just because I’m your dad.” He quips at the end of his grandiose speech. 

Rey can’t help the chuckle that escapes her, despite the fact that she’s completely over-whelmed by his words.

“Have you taken up motivational speaking?” Rey jests.

“Oh, alright…”

“I think we should upload that speech to YouTube…”

Obi-Wan sighs. “Very funny.”

Rey smiles. “I’ve been a fool to think I didn’t need a kick in the arse from you at least once while going through this tournament.” Her smile faulters as she glances at the tender expression on her father’s face. “I’ve been so afraid of disappointing people.” She whispers.

Her father just shakes his head. “You should only be concerned about disappointing yourself.”

Her thoughts drift to Ben and her heart aches a bit. She sighs as she rests her chin on her knee. “Glory of tennis aside…I do think I was beginning to fucking fall in love with the bloke.” She mumbles against her leg.

“As your father, I can’t say I’m very…delighted to hear that.” Obi-Wan grumbles.

Rey smiles into her knee. “I don’t think you should worry too much. I’m pretty sure whatever we had is over.”

_It’s probably for the best._

“Maybe it will work itself out in the end.”

Rey looks over at her father, at the uncomfortable look on his face.

“We can stop having boy-talk now.”

“Right.” Obi-Wan sighs relievedly. “Thank heavens for that.”


	12. Chapter 12

_It’s triple break point in the fifth game of the second set. Rey Kenobi looks on in concentration. Will she break Gwen Phasma’s killer serve and give herself a chance to fight for another chance, or will this Wimbledon final end after two quick faulty sets at Rey’s hand? The pressure is on as we watch these two famous rivals fight for the title. This is history in the making, there will finally be a British Wimbledon champion since 1936—but the question is: who will it be?_

_It doesn’t seem like Kenobi has much fight left in her, her serve being easily broken each game. It looks like Phasma is about to draw the winning blow. What a pitiful defeat for England’s grand mare…_

A drop of sweat rolls down Rey’s brow, her eyes set in concentration. She evens her breath with each lunge as she sways from left to right.

_Breathe Kenobi, just breathe._

She meets Gwen Phasma’s eye from across the court. Gwen bounces the ball five times before she holds it against her racket.

_‘Don’t choke.’_ She jumps when she hears _his_ voice. _‘You’re stronger than that. You’re a fucking force.’_

_You don’t want me to win._ She thinks. _You never actually cared about me._

Gwen tosses the ball in the air. Her long arm pulls back to strike.

_It doesn’t matter. Head in the bloody game Kenobi. You can win, you just have to fucking believe it._

Gwen’s serve arcs straight to her. Rey shuffles her footwork ready to defend it and—

The telephone rings and Rey sighs as she reaches for it blindly. “Hello?” She asks groggily.

“This is your wakeup call miss. It’s 7:30.”

Rey sucks in a breath as her eyes peak open at the clock. “Oh, thank you.”

“Of course…and good luck today Miss Kenobi…we’re all rooting for you.”

A small smile turns up at the corner of her mouth. “Cheers.”

When the lift doors open and she and Finn enter the lobby, the entire hotel staff is there. They begin to clap and cheer as they step out of the lift.

“I told you, they bloody love you.” Finn murmurs beside her and he waves.

“Good luck Rey!”

“You’ll be brilliant, Rey!

“Go kick Phasma’s arse!” There are some chuckles at that one.

Rey is a bit overwhelmed as she smiles and shakes hands as they exit the hotel.

On their way to the courts, Finn is prattling off what sounds like a thousand things Rey is supposed to do before her match.

“First, no pressure, but if you win this, we might get to meet Her Royal Highness, and you know that has been a dream of mine since I was a wee little lad…”

“Finn, shouldn’t we focus on the match, not what might happen after?”

“Right, okay, the biggest thing will be your pre-match press conference. It will be about the same as before. They’re definitely going to ask about the match—obviously. Probably some things about Phasma—just be pleasant and appreciative, maybe even compliment her playing style because she sure won’t compliment yours. She thinks she can get away with being rude, but we’re British.” He says it like it’s the obvious reason. “…and they will probably ask about Ben, especially since he’s out of the tournament now…” Finn trails off and Rey can feel his apprehensive gaze.

“What Finn?” She asks as she speeds through a hard-yellow light.

She can see him hold his hand up warily. “You don’t have to tell me, but you were a bloody mess yesterday after you snuck off—don’t think I didn’t notice. I’m sure you’ve got a million things going through your head—”

“You’re right.” Rey cuts in. “I do have a lot going through my head right now, and Ben Solo isn’t one of them.”

It’s not entirely a lie…

Finn nods wholeheartedly. “That’s great, right—well anyway I’m going to read over some of the statement cards just to help keep it fresh.”

Rey hums in assent. Her eyes dart to the clock on BB-8’s console. 6 hours till game time.

_Just keep your head in it, Kenobi._

-

The second Rey steps into the press room the camera’s start flashing. Gial Ackbar follows behind her. When they take their seats Gial leans into the mic.

“Good morning, who’s going to go first?”

Rey uncaps the water bottle that had been placed by her seat. She takes a sip to calm the nerves and the buzzing in her head.

“Rey, this is a big landmark for you, there is a ton of pressure at this level, how are you handling that pressure to reach that final landmark?”

_Do they ever tire from asking this question? Rewording it and using words like ‘landmark’…think they’re being bloody creative the gits…_

She pauses and thinks of her answer, like how Finn told her to. “I think I’m handling it as best I can. I think I’ve sort of gotten used to the pressure by now.”

“And what have you been doing to prepare for this next—this final attempt, here at Wimbledon?”

The way they say final, like once it’s over she’ll keel over and meet her tennis maker. In way, she supposes they’re not wrong…

“Uh, I’ve been staying focused, thinking about my game, thinking about my serve—that has really improved this tournament.”

_You do have someone to thank for that._

“As a thirty-year old pursuing this title, what are the differences in your emotions from when you were here ten years ago to now?”

Rey shrugs a bit, her elbows come to rest on the table top. “Oddly, it feels about the same, if I’m being honest. I might be complaining a bit more mentally about the strain in my back, but otherwise it’s no different.” She thinks she can see Finn off to the side looking a little mortified at her terrible joke. The press room does chuckle however.

“Rey, Gwen Phasma has been bowling through this tournament practically without a hitch. Even in this past year she has had a lot of success. What do you make of what she has accomplished thus far?”

“Gwen certainly is very accomplished.” Rey starts, “she has a sort of toughness and authority on the court that is assuredly very intimidating. Coming to Wimbledon with those titles already under her belt—it’s going to be a tough match. I can only hope that I can keep up.”

“It’s no secret that you’ve been spending time with Ben Solo during this tournament. Will we see him cheering you on in the stands?”

Rey bites her bottom lip. Finn had gone over a statement for Ben, he’d gone over it a few times in the car actually—like he expected her to be taken by surprise.

_“Just tell them Ben has become a good friend to you and he’s been a great support to you during the tourney. Just be vague, it’s okay to hedge the question.”_

She thinks about yesterday, when he told her she only used him for what she thought he could give her.

“Ben has become a really good friend through all this. He was able to help me navigate through the pressure of all those matches.”

“Solo is known for having quite a temper, as he demonstrated yesterday after his disappointing loss. What are your thoughts on that sort of behavior during a match?”

The questions are starting to take a more direct turn away from the match. Rey can see Finn quietly shaking his head at her, almost like he’s saying— _don’t go there._

And Rey knows the tennis world, with all its glory, is filled with this negativity. It always seems like the second someone makes a mistake the world is ready to tear them down, demolish them. Ben’s character, while temperamental as it is, is more than just a tantrum after a bad match. She considers everything he said to her, everything he did _for_ her and it was never to benefit his own best interests.

She _knows_ this about him. Even when she told him yesterday that she didn’t know who he was. Something about hearing other people talk about his missteps, choosing to judge him because of those mistakes, deciding to just write him off as another hot-headed kid. She realizes she did the exact same thing.

Rey doesn’t know what comes over her. Why she wants nothing more than to _defend_ him.

“As you all have kept asking me through this tournament—about pressure. I think sometimes it does get the better of us. Because on top of playing your very best, on top of mentally besting your opponent, on top of the support—or lack thereof—from the crowd, and on top of everyone scrutinizing every move you make—it makes sense when it does become overwhelming. It can be hard to control.”

The air in the room feels thicker all of a sudden. The reporters look like they’re edging forward in their seats.

“Are you defending Ben’s outburst on the court?”

She can see it in Finn’s face. It’s screaming now— _DON’T ANSWER._

Rey crosses her arms in front of her on the table. “I did get to know him quite well during the tournament. I’m not sure if another player has as much passion for the game as he does.”

“And what about you? To get to this point, to fight as hard as you have, there is a passion in that a well. You, however, handle that pressure more…graciously we can say.”

She opens her mouth, and then closes it. “Uh, yeah there is—a passion behind my fight. As you all know, this is my last Wimbledon, my last tournament. To say it hasn’t been extra special because of that—well it’s not entirely true…” Ben’s face flashes before her eyes, and he’s smirking at her a bit. He’s looking at her like he’s saying: _it’s okay, say it._

“What has made this tournament special?” One reporter prods from the crowd.

She isn’t sure who asks the question, but she knows her answer. She doesn’t even have to think about it.

“I think before—before all of this, when I was playing in these tournaments, I had no idea who I was. I didn’t believe in my self-worth. After everything—when you’re quickly put on a pedestal and then you don’t live up to it…it’s immobilizing. I used to think—I play tennis because I love it and then that turned into—I play tennis because I have to do everything in my power to stay on that pedestal…and it’s bloody exhausting—sorry.” She apologizes for the expletive, but no one says anything they’re all just staring at her, urging her to go on…

“But this time, I had someone telling me to forget about it, to stop thinking about all of that _nonsense_. I had someone who believed in me, who truly did. He helped me understand how to just be me. He reminded me of that little girl who just wanted to play tennis, that little girl who wanted to win Wimbledon one day.” She thinks of her father’s words. 

_“The greatest challenge we face, as athletes, is our fear in believing in ourselves.”_

He was right, because she didn’t believe in herself. But he was wrong, because even if she fought her fucking arse off to get here, she couldn’t have done it without Ben…without her friends…

Without her family.

“Look, I know Ben Solo is not perfect and he doesn’t always follow the rules, he’s actually a right prick—” Some of the reporters laugh in agreement. “—but if anyone has been there for me through all of this, if anyone has helped me find hope at the end of every match…reminded me to believe in myself…it’s him.”

Multiple hands raise when she looks up. Gial holds his own hand up. “Only questions pertaining to the match, please.” He says as he tries to rein in the crowd. He points then to Tallie Lintra.

Tallie looks at her with a buzzing energy, ignoring the older gentleman’s request. “Rey, it sounds like Ben really impacted you here at Wimbledon…”

Impact is one way to put it.

“—is there anything you would want to say to him right now, if you could?” Rey missed the part where this conference turned into a platform to tell Ben Solo anything.

When she looks over at Tallie, it looks like there are literal stars in her eyes as she waits for her answer. The whole crowd is silent except for the lone camera snap.

Gial shakes his head. “That is not an appropriate question—”

“Yes, actually I would.” Rey leans into the mic. Finn has his hands on his head, his eyes are blown out wide. “I would…” She trails off and she swallows the tremor that rumbles in her throat.

His face flashes before her again, under the blinding lights from the cameras. The room blinks away and she sees him right there, looking at her.

He’s listening to her, waiting patiently. She watches as he nods at her, encouraging her.

_Ben…_

Rey breathes out against the mic and the sound creates a static pitch that echoes into the room.

Her surroundings come back to her, like a scene change in a movie. When she blinks, she sees the camera’s and the wide eyes and the eagerness that permeates the room.

Rey inhales a shaky breath before she says the words in a tone that is barely above a whisper.

“I would tell him I’m sorry.”

It’s silent for a beat before the room explodes.

The press doesn’t even wait to be called on by Gial as the questions and the cameras erupt into a symphony of chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Akbar you can’t control the stans 😂. Who doesn’t love a good ol’ press conference for quasi-love confessions eh?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before a little epilogue and it is a ~wild~ ride. I hope you enjoy it 🤗

Rey watches as the coin is tossed up into the air. It’s overcast today, the stratus clouds hang overhead and promise rain.

“Tails, Kenobi it’s your pick.” The umpire calls her attention back.

Rey blinks at him. “Uh, serve sir.”

The umpire nods. “Serve, Kenobi. Shake hands.”

Gwen glances down at her as if she’s a beggar asking for change. She holds her hand out and clasps her fingers around Rey’s palm so that it looks like a shake, but in an instant it’s gone.

_Wonderful, good._

Rey walks back towards the service line and up to her box. She looks at her parents and Obi-Wan holds up two thumbs-up with a big smile. Finn is wearing another one of those bloody handkerchiefs, this time her face is printed all over it in a repeat and he’s wearing a cap that says ‘GO REY’ embroidered on it. He swats Rose’s hand away as she tries to take the cap off his head. Poe is on his mobile phone whispering into it, probably placing illegal bets right there in the players box. Rey watches as Ashoka leans over to grab it from him.

Rey smiles as she inhales deeply trying to shake the nerves off.

The ball girl, the same one from Rey’s first match jogs up to her with a towel.

“Thank god, it’s you again.” Rey says with a smile. The girl smiles back shyly. “I’m sorry, I never asked your name.”

“It’s Jyn.” The girl says quietly.

Rey nods, her smile widens. “Thanks for sticking with me, Jyn.”

The girl beams. “You’ll be brilliant miss.”

“Oh please, just call me Rey.” She asks sincerely. 

Jyn takes the towel back from her. “Good luck, Rey. We’re all rooting for you.”

It makes Rey pause. When she turns, she looks around at the crowd at Centre Court. In that moment, it all feels quite surreal. There’s an energy humming throughout the stadium. She can feel it as it wisps across her face. She can hear it as it says:

_We’re all rooting for you, Rey._

She closes her eyes for a moment in the silence.

_You have the first serve. You’re starting with the advantage. Don’t bloody waste it._

Rey opens her eyes and turns to Jyn who’s holding a tennis ball high above her head. She nods as the girl bounces it to her. Rey pockets the ball and holds her hand out for the second one.

She sets up and then she bounces the ball once, then twice and takes a breath.

_Believe in yourself dammit. Dad is right, you got yourself here. Ben’s not the only one who thinks you can win this. At least 50% of this crowd thinks you can too. Bollocks, they’re Brits, they really don’t give a fuck who wins at this point. Britain wins either way. Yeah, not the most positive, Rey… oh royal tits…fuck—forgive me Your Highness…_

_Just serve the fucking ball, Rey._

_You can fucking win this._

-

Rey pants as she rushes to the net, but it’s a miss.

“Game, Phasma.”

_Bollocks. I don’t think you can win this._

Her eyes flit to the scoreboard. 5-3 in the second set. Phasma is one game away from winning it all.

_So much for all that Dr. Phil crap, Dad._

“Come on, Rey!” Someone shouts in the crowd.

“Silence, please.” The umpire intones.

A bead of sweat falls from her brow as she bounces the ball once, then twice. She serves the ball and Phasma hits it into the net. She makes a frustrated sound across the way.

“15-love.” The umpire calls.

_Come on Kenobi. At least make this a bloody match._

She feels the first raindrop as she tosses the ball in the air. Phasma returns with a power slap this time and Rey is sprinting across the grass.

They continue to volley as the rain falls more consistently around them. Rey is too close to the net when Phasma hits the ball past her and it bounces in.

“15-all.” The monotone echoes in Rey’s ears. _Fuck._

The rain becomes significantly heavier as Rey tries to bounce the ball on the spongey grass. Within seconds it immediately starts to pour and the umpire calls a rain delay.

Rey looks up to the rainclouds. Heavy drops of rain assault her lashes.

_Just want to drag out this misery, huh?_

The crowds all rush for cover as the court officials rush to the court to pull the plastic tarp over the grass. Rey grabs her gear and hurries to the locker room.

She’s dripping water as she fishes in her bag for a dry towel. Once she finds one, she drops onto the bench and sighs, pressing her face against the terrycloth.

“You’re playing fucking terrible.” She hears above her, and for a moment she is sure she’s imagining it.

She must have imagined it, because there’s no way in hell that Ben Solo would be here in the locker room during her rain delay.

Rey looks up and blinks the water away from her eyes as Ben comes into focus. He’s wearing jeans and a black polo shirt. His elongated form leans against a row of lockers in front of her.

_What are you doing here?_ She wants to ask.

“She’s too good.” Rey says instead as she shakes her head against the towel before setting it aside.

“Bullshit.” He says fiercely.

Rey’s eyes shoot to him. “What are you doing here, Ben?” She asks softly. “I thought—I thought our partnership was over.”

He shrugs unperturbed by her question and it’s a little infuriating. “You’re in desperate need of some advice right now. Whether we’re fucking or not.”

Rey bristles at him. He really is a right prick sometimes.

He doesn’t wait for her to respond. “You’re letting her dominate you. She’s absolutely sodomizing you.”

Rey looks aghast at his crudeness. “That’s a bit of a…disturbing way to put it.”

“Do you even want to win?” He asks her incredulously and he stares down at her with that expression of his that is a little patronizing, yet borderline affectionate. It is a confusing paradox.

Rey looks down at her hands. “Yes, I want to win.”

“The way you’re playing, I don’t believe you.”

Rey groans in frustration. “I’m fucking exhausted alright?”

He’s quiet, and when she looks up, she’s stunned by the heat in his stare. “You want to know why I’m here?”

Even though it should be obvious, Rey shrugs her shoulders prompting him to go on.

“I saw your press conference. You really know how to stir the media into insanity.” He smirks a little bit and then he says yet another infuriating thing, “You think I’m not perfect?”

Rey’s eyes narrow up at him. “ _That’s_ what you got out of all that?”

His smile drops a bit as he looks to the ground. When he looks back up at her, the emotion behind his eyes makes her breathing shallow.

“You said you wanted me to know you were sorry. But fuck that—because what do you have to be sorry for? I’m the one—when I told you I wanted nothing more than to win Wimbledon. I was a fucking liar.” His head shakes as he runs a hand through his hair. “I know I lied to myself, even as my fucking mouth said it out loud.”

Rey’s breath is caught in her throat. She realizes she has stopped breathing as she attempts to swallow the lump that’s formed there. Her lungs expand desperate for more air.

“I know I was more than an asshole. When you left, all I really wanted to do was take it all back, but I didn’t know how to do it. And—” He pauses and he appears to be thinking on his next words. “You believed in me too, in a way that was different than anyone else.” He takes a step towards her. “Because after I lost, and I’m not talking about the match, after I made you leave, after I hurt you—I’d never felt more fucking alone. I felt like a fucking monster.”

He’s come to kneel down in front of her now and he’s so close, but he doesn’t touch her.

“I realized it didn’t matter. The tournament, the loss, none of it. The only thing I wanted at the end of all of this was to keep seeing you.”

She gasps, because she isn’t expecting it. She isn’t expecting the way her heart expands so wide that there’s no room left for her to breathe in air. When she blinks, tears drop down her cheeks.

“And I’m not here because I desperately need your forgiveness. I know I’m not deserving of that. But you are deserving of _everything_.” He says with such imploring sincerity it would knock her off her feet if she were standing. “You’re a fucking force—”

She doesn’t let him finish his sentence. Her lips crash against his with so much momentum that he almost falls backwards. His hands fly to her waist as he steadies himself. Rey’s hands come up to his face and one threads through his hair as she pulls his mouth harder against her own.

When she finally pulls away to catch her breath his lips move forward as if magnetized to her own, as if he can’t bear to be apart from her.

“I can’t apologize enough for how much of a total fucking assh—” She cuts him off again as she attacks his mouth.

“You can apologize to me thoroughly after I get through this bloody match.” She pants against him and she moves off the bench to straddle him on the floor. It’s then that she remembers she’s soaked through. “I have to change.” She says as she stares into his eyes, her hands come down to the hem of her top and she pulls it over her head.

Ben stares at her with a darkening gaze before his eyes zero in on her pebbled nipples underneath her white sports bra.

“You can help me with that…as your first act of recompense.” She suggests as she kneels above him.

He doesn’t say anything, but his hands instantly fold underneath her sports bra and he peels it off of her.

“I can do _so_ much more.” He says gruffly as his mouth latches on to her neck. His hands mold against her breasts and they’re hot against her skin.

Rey moans as she presses her cunt against his sizeable erection. She wonders what she must look like to him, clad only in her pleated tennis skirt, soaked in rain water, a look in her eyes that she is sure holds so much desperation for him, so much reverence. She thinks it’s the same desperation she sees in his own expression.

“Do you want me to make you come?” He asks against her jaw. His hands move around her to cup her arse. He growls when she thrusts her cunt against him.

Her hands hastily push her skirt down and off her legs as Ben scrambles to sit up on his knees, his hands fly to his denims. When his cock springs free, after he’s dragged his pants down just enough, he lunges towards her. Rey squeals a little as she feels him pick her up and lie her back on the bench.

His cock lines up with her center, and his hand comes down to rub his tip against her slit. He pushes some of her wetness up against her clit and she sighs.

Ben looks at her then, his eyes reach into her own. “After you win, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t feel your fucking legs. This is just a preview.” He grunts as he slides into her.

Rey’s eyes fall shut as she feels him fill her. “Let’s just stay focused on the present, alright?” Her legs latch around him as he starts to thrust her into the bench. “But I do—ah… need my legs to function.”

His thrusts are slow and steady. Each time he bottoms out inside of her his pelvis presses against her clit and causes her cunt to gently squeeze around him.

“You feel so fucking incredible.” He says into her ear. “Even going a day without being in your pussy was fucking torture.” He growls and she feels it go straight to her cunt.

_Oh, fucking hell_. She quivers at his words. Her hands grip his shoulders as her back slides against the smooth wood beneath her.

His thumb moves down to circle her clit. Rey can feel her orgasm begin to wind tighter.

“Are you going to come for me baby?” He says as his teeth nip at her earlobe and she cries out.

“I-I’m about to.” She gasps as her cunt tightens around him.

Ben growls into her ear. “I can feel it, I can feel how close you are.” He begins to speed up his thrusts, his thumb swipes solidly against her clit.

She whimpers right before she snaps and the sound that escapes her as she comes is ragged.

Ben pumps into her a few more times before his thrusts slow and his cock pulses inside of her.

Rey tries to catch her breath as her head falls back against the bench. Ben is hunched over her panting just as heavily. She reaches up to push the hair that has fallen in front of his face back up, but it’s futile.

They stare silently at each other as their heartrates steady.

“Bloody hell…” She sighs. “I really hope it’s still raining…”

-

One of the officials comes into the locker room thirty minutes later to signal the end of the rain delay. The woman’s eyes dart to where Ben is standing warily.

“The match is ready to resume.” She says as Rey stuffs her soiled clothes into her bag.

Rey goes to follow the official out and yelps as Ben’s hand solidly taps her arse as she passes him.

She shoots him a playful glare.

“Kill it.” He calls after her.

The crowd applauds as they set up to resume.

Jyn gives Rey a reassuring smile as she takes her towel from her.

Rey turns towards her opponent. Gwen stalks to the line and there’s a haughty smirk on her face as she gets ready for Rey’s serve. She is three points away from the championship title after all.

_Alright, you better fight for this set. It’s a new bloody day._

Rey straightens her shoulders and she releases a tense breath. Maybe it was the rain delay, maybe it was Ben Solo’s cock, whatever the reason, Rey’s mind couldn’t be clearer.

She huffs as she bounces the ball once, then twice and when she slaps her serve over the net Phasma isn’t ready for its speed. She returns but it bounces out. The crowd is uproarious.

Rey looks over at the screen at the corner of the court and it reads 207.3 kmh. It’s a personal best. She looks up at her box then and a smile that could light up a room spreads across her face.

She sees her parents cheering, Obi-Wan looks almost incensed as she sees him mouth the words ‘personal best’. His eyes are bright with awe. But it’s not her family that has her smile so wide. She locks eyes with Ben as he sneaks in a seat behind Poe and a few seats from Rose, who is also staring at him with her mouth hanging open. Finn follows Rey’s gaze and then he whirls back around to her, but she doesn’t see the shocked look on his face.

Ben smirks at her as he claps along with the crowd.

When Rey turns back to look at Phasma, she watches the tall blond looks up towards her box then back at her, a glare now set on her features. It’s so prominent Rey can see it from where she stands.

_You better do that again, Kenobi._

Rey still has a smile on her face as she serves an ace.

-

Rey wins the game, and the one after that, and the one after that until she’s won the set.

To most watching, they would say it was certainly an unexpected set indeed.

-

There’s a new kind of energy thrumming through Centre Court.

There is no denying that Rey’s game has improved _immensely_ since the rain delay. She has taken control of the court, and with it the crowd.

Gwen has had the same frown on her face since Rey scored that first point.

And now here they are once again, except the score is 5-4 in Rey’s favor and they’re tied at one point.

Gwen Phasma does have one thing going for her however.

It’s her serve.

Rey bounces from side to side as she tries to keep her muscles loose.

_You break her, the match is yours. There’s going to be a little girl smiling up at you and that’s all that bloody matters…and you can finally tell her—we did it, we fucking did it…_

Gwen grunts loudly as her serve flies over the net.

“Fault!” The linesman at the net calls.

Gwen shouts an expletive in frustration. She serves again and this time the ball is in play. Every time Rey returns the ball, Gwen hits it back with an even louder yell each time. Rey is able to slice the ball on a return and it drops unexpectedly due to its spin.

Gwen isn’t ready for it.

“30-15.”

Rey balls her hand up in a fist and screams as the crowd cheers around her.

_Two points._

Gwen serves again with a shrill cry, the force of the serve flies past Rey. She’s sure it will be an ace, but when her head flies back to watch where it goes, her eyes widen in horror as it bounces and hits Jyn square in the face.

There is an audible gasp throughout the crowd. Rey rushes over to the girl immediately. Another official is at her side as she coaxes Jyn to lower her hand. A bruise already beginning to form under her right eye.

“Shit, she gonna be alright?” Rey asks the official.

The older woman helps Jyn to her feet. “We’ll get her looked at.” And then she looks at Rey. “You have a match to win.” She says sternly and then she shoots her a wink.

_Bloody hell, alright then._

Rey turns to look back at Gwen. She’s picking at the strings of her racket looking bored. It makes Rey’s blood boil.

_Fucking bitch. Low blow going for the kid._

“Service.” The umpire calls.

It’s dead silent until Gwen serves, another forceful grunt pushing out of her as the ball flies over the net.

Rey returns it with an angry slap.

She can smell the grass as the ball flies back to her, it smells freshly mowed and a bit wet. She imagines her focus as sharp as a blade of grass, as precise as the feeling of it flying up and brushing against her legs.

_One with the court, Rey. You’re one with the court. Yes, you sound like a complete yo-yo. Just don’t. Let. It. Fucking. Bounce. Twice. Fuck, how can she keep going? How long has this bloody rally gone on?_

Just when Rey begins to feel her control slip, Gwen loses hers first. With a guttural shout she slaps the ball and Rey is convinced she’s about to lose the point.

“Out!”

Rey looks at Gwen, her face flushed and her eyes bugging out of her head. With a scream she slams her racket against the grass. Her reaction is delayed but when it hits her, Rey turns from Gwen and yells in triumph. Many people in the crowd are standing, screaming, losing their bloody minds.

Rey looks up at her box to see Ben standing. Maybe it’s because she’s looking at him, watching his lips, knows what he’s saying deep in her bones, but she can hear his voice over the rest.

“You’re a fucking FORCE baby!”

“Bloody hell.” She breathes.

“Match point.” The umpire utters. “Silence please.” It takes the crowd a bit longer to settle down. “I said, silence _please._ ”

“Oh, bugger off!” A fan calls in the crowd and there are some chuckles that sound around the court.

Rey feels the blood rushing through her ears. She chews at her bottom lip.

“Steady on, Kenobi.” Rey murmurs as she watches Phasma toss her ball up with a frown.

It’s another rally, and it feels equally as long. Rey’s internal battle roars with each slap of the ball. A scream rips out of her as she backhands it back to Gwen. It must be the fact that it’s match point because she can’t really feel anything. She is running on pure adrenaline.

Gwen is able to control her next hit because she sends it to the far left, while Rey is still to the right.

Maybe Rey should have let it go and instead fight for the next point, but there’s something inside of her that pushes her legs forward.

_This is it. You have to go for it._

If it weren’t for the wetness on the grass from the rain, Rey would not have slipped and she wouldn’t have been able to slide and save it. The ball flies up and it’s a lob. Rey curses as she watches it fall in slow motion across the net. Gwen has an easy shot now, and Rey is on the ground without the time to get up and return it.

She can see the crazed look in Gwen’s eye as she gets ready to slam it across the court.

_You still have a chance._ She thinks as she watches Gwen slap the ball with such force it will surely bounce up and away. An easy point for Gwen.

It happens so fast, but to Rey, she’s watching it move like one of those stop motion scenes that’s been slowed down frame, by agonizing bloody frame.

The ball does bounce to the ground…

But on Gwen’s side of the net.

There are many who are in shock, who possibly can’t believe what they just saw. Rey is one of them.

The rest, who realize what just happened, erupt in a chorus of cheers.

“Match, Kenobi.”

Rey is still lying on the grass, and she allows herself to fall onto her back as she looks up into the sky. The sun has come out and its rays are shining down on her.

Her hand comes to her mouth and a sob escapes her. Rey shuts her eyes as the realization of it all crashes into her like a wave.

The screams boom around her. It’s deafening.

She sits up and gets to her feet. She looks down at herself, at the grass stains on her left side. The green smudges mixed with dirt. She absently rubs at it.

Remembering protocol, she jogs towards the net. Gwen doesn’t even look at her as she touches her hand and then promptly drops it. They walk towards the umpire. Gwen shakes his hand first before she stalks over to her chair. When Rey shakes his hand, he gleams down at her. “Congratulations.” He says and Rey swallows through her smile.

“Thank you.”

And then the sounds of the crowd come back to her. She turns back towards the court and holds her hand up in the air with a wave. The noise of the crowd rises emphatically. Whistles ring through the stadium.

She looks back at her box and it’s then that the emotion of it all hits her.

Rey Kenobi is the Wimbledon champion.

She runs and tosses her racket to the ground. She watches as Ashoka wipes a few tears from her eyes. Obi-Wan is beaming at her from ear-to-ear. Finn has his phone out and he’s yelling rapidly into it. Rose is jumping up and down with pure joy plastered all over her face.

And then there’s Ben.

He’s giving her a look that says, _I told you so_.

She could bloody punch him.

A step ladder has been set up that allows her to climb up to the roof of her box.

“There’s my Wimbledon champion!” Obi-Wan exclaims as Rey hops over the railing and is embraced by her parents.

The tears are flowing freely now. When she pulls away Ashoka rests a gentle hand to her cheek. “We are so proud of you, Rey.”

“It doesn’t feel real.” She says as she turns to Finn.

Finn pulls the phone from his ear and he pulls her into a hug. Rey grips at him frantically. “You did it, Peanut. You bloody well did it.” He pulls away and smiles at her. “Champion.”

Rey hiccups through her tears as she tries to wipe them away.

She turns then to see Ben, a looming shadow in black, smirking at her at the other end of the box.

The wanker.

As she scoots past her parents, she pulls Poe on the nose as she goes past him. “I want you to know, I bet on you the whole time!” He says and then yelps as Ashoka grabs him by the ear.

Ben’s smirk widens. “I told you, you could do it.” He says boastfully.

Rey shakes her head, but she can’t hold in the smile. “Shut up, you prick.” And then she pulls him down to her and surges her lips against his.

And maybe he was right, but regardless of what anyone said or what anyone thought—

Rey Kenobi was the Wimbledon champion.

She was a fucking _force._


	14. Chapter 14

_4 Years Later_

“Helloo my precious!” Rey looks up to see Rose crunching her fingers up in front of her in a ‘gimme gimme’ expression.

“Rosie!” The high-pitched squeal in her lap makes Rey wince.

Rose’s face absolutely melts. “Oh my god, I wish you were my baby.”

“Okay, Rose.” Rey grumbles as she hands her two-year-old over to Rose’s impatient hands. “You can have her.”

“How is my sweet little Clara-bear-a?” Rose coos as she snuggles the toddler.

Rey looks over at her. “Shouldn’t you be sitting with Hux?”

“Pft, we’re not married. He’s the one that chose to work for _the enemy_.” Rose snarks as she starts speaking in gibberish with Clara.

Rey glances over across the players box where Hux is sitting with a baseball cap on with the logo FO emblazoned on it in big letters. He has his arms crossed and looks to be ignoring the older man sitting beside him.

“I can’t believe Snoke tried to recruit Ben last year.” Rose went on as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. She pushes it into Rey’s hands. “Take a pic of me and my niece.” She demands.

“Lukey!” Clara shouts as the older gentleman hobbles by her. Luke shoots his grand-niece a resigned nod. Clara giggles uncontrollably as she leans over Rose and she reaches for him.

Rey smiles over at Luke as she says, “If Luke wasn’t so pleasant to be around all the time, Ben might have gone to the dark side.” She jokes as Luke sighs and sits Clara on his lap.

They’re interrupted from the conversation when the crowd starts to erupt in cheers as the players enter the court.

“Daddy!” Clara shouts as she sit’s up straighter to look out onto the court. Luke’s arms wrap protectively around her.

Rey looks out to where Ben is walking across the grass. His broad shoulders sway as he walks, his tennis bag looks like a regular backpack slung over one bulking shoulder. No matter how many times she watches a match, Rey’s heart beats a bit faster as she drinks him in.

The cheers get louder as the players go to the opposite ends to begin warming up. Ben catches her eye as he walks towards the service line. He flashes his signature smirk at her and a little wink.

And bloody hell he still gets her knickers all twisted.

“Daddy!” Clara shouts again and Luke leans over beside her ear.

“Remember Clara, we can only cheer when the crowd cheers. Otherwise we have to be silent.”

Rey raises her eyebrows as she watches them, as she watches her exuberant daughter _obey_.

Yup, she definitely knows who’s babysitting Clara from now on. Maybe she could spend a few months with the man. Push a little love into his old, cranky heart…

She knows Ben would just _love_ that.

“Rey!” She turns to see Tallie Lintra perched in the aisle smiling at her. “Do you have time for a few questions?”

Rey smiles back. “Sure.”

“Brilliant!” Tallie holds her microphone up towards Rey. “How are you, how’s the family?” She starts.

Rey nods softly. “Good. We’re all doing great.”

Tallie looks over behind her. “I see we have a little big fan in the stands.” She motions to Clara.

Rey raises her eyebrows. “Ohh, yes. We have the number one fan sitting with us today.”

“So, how does it feel to be sitting in the players box for yet another Wimbledon final?”

“I certainly prefer it to being down there.” She jokes. “Still equally as stressful though.”

Tallie’s eyes crinkle at her. “Still stressful even though Ben has quite a few major titles under his belt?”

“Well, this would only be his second Wimbledon.” Rey quips.

“Ben has grown on us Brits over the years—”

“Oh, same. It’s taken _years_ and he’s finally grown on me too!” She watches as Ben slams a serve across the court.

He really is…scrumptious.

Tallie laughs and then looks at her with an inquisitive expression on her face. “I do have one more question that fans always ask.”

Rey looks at the other woman then, curiously. “Oh, boy.”

“Everyone just wants to know if you would ever consider coming out of retirement. Maybe go for a husband & wife doubles duo.”

Rey glances at Clara as her eyes avidly watch the warm up and then her gaze slides back down to her husband. A little smile graces her lips as her hand subconsciously rubs against her abdomen.

She shakes her head. “I never really retired Tallie. I just entered a whole new tournament—and it’s been a pretty major one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🥴aaand, we're done (with a little cheese at the end). I hope you all have enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you did, I'd love to hear your comments!


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